Private Finished To which lie do you subscribe because you have to choose a pill

Lochlann was lucky the doctor was even at the office at this hour. He would accept appointments for any time, but tended to not actually stay in the building at night. It might have been more convenient for people to reach him if he had a phone in his house, but he was a private man and did not want to be bothered at home. Besides, usually people did not come to him with emergencies and he rarely had any friends to speak of.

William had only come in to take a book from his office so he hadn't even glanced at the answering machine. And since he wasn't expecting anyone and was only going to be out for a short trip, he hadn't worn his gloves either. That may have been a bit of a risk if he did run into anyone, but it had only been a week since he had fed last and he was still mostly in control.

Or at least he thought he was in control until the young man walked in the door and he tasted Lochlann's particular blend of illness. Instinctively the doctor stepped toward the waiting room, but held himself back. He could not afford to attack this patient. He was not strong enough and the people on this island were dangerous. He would be caught. It was why he was almost perpetually starving himself here, even though the wide variety of creatures seemed to aggravate his cravings more.

But he couldn't just leave the young man out there, and he couldn't leave the building without going past him. William steeled himself before entering the waiting room, clasping his hands firmly behind his back. Agitated, he licked his lips and just stared at the young man before he could even manage to speak. Lochlann was clearly in bad condition and William could not help reconsidering his decision not to feed. He wouldn't know for sure until they spoke, but he had a feeling the young man was not completely there at the moment.

"What have you done now, Mr. Cabyll-Ushtey?"

The lack of positive feelings was mutual, although the doctor truly had no positive feelings for anyone so that wasn't a surprising fact. But he also treated all his patients the same, very politely. However, Lochlann was one of the patients he had a feeling would be hard to work with, and not just because of the fact that the taste of his illness was quite aggravating to his hunger. William was a doctor - he was used to being around ill people and keeping up his mask, but he could tell the young man did not want to actually be seeing a doctor in the first place.

Two things were obvious to the wraith before the young man even spoke. One - this was clearly a drug overdose, although he would need more information to figure out what kind. Two - if he stood here much longer without his gloves he was going to end up attacking a patient, and that was generally not a good idea. He wasn't sure the gloves would have been much protection, either - the young man was so clearly vulnerable right now.

William automatically reached a hand out to steady Lochlann when he attempted to stand, but immediately drew it back. Maria sent a bolt of fear through him to help him keep his dtance, but it was only a temporary fix. He was at least a little fortunate that the demon was in agreement that draining patients when it might get them caught was definitely not a good practice.

The doctor was torn. He had no idea how to proceed without getting closer, and he knew he couldn't leave a patient overdosing in his waiting room. He was going to try and just get Lochlann to go to the emergency room, but then the young man said he had nowhere else to go.

Maria jumped on that fact right away and screamed in the wraith's head, Go for it!. William still hesitated, though. He wasn't actually sure he would be able to feed off the taller man, at least not if he was aware what was happening. The doctor studied the young man for a moment, although it probably looked more like a starving vulture contemplating how long it would take dinner to be ready.

"It would be helpful for you to tell me exactly what medication you took. We should go to the other room. Can you walk?"

William was fidgeting, almost shaking, tongue darting out to wet his lips way more than it should be. His pupils were probably almost as dilated as the young man's were small, and he was restraining himself from circling only because the fact that Lochlann was sitting in a chair made it impossible for him to unconsciously do that without running into a wall.

All his reservations were crumbling, breaking down and the demon in his head had gone silent, simply damping down any of his inconvenient emotions and letting his own cravings work on him.

The doctor often made a show of resisting his demon, made excuses, clung to his politeness and made-up morals. Lied to himself that he had to feed to survive, that he regretted being alive but Maria stopped him from ending it. Those were partially true, although he should have died naturally over a hundred years ago. In the end, though, she may control his emotions, but he controlled his actions. He could be more selective with the ones he killed. Or he could warn people and only drain partially, and still hold back the fading. People fought cravings and addictions all the time, he was a doctor he should know that.

But the wraith had never really built up any willpower. After all these years he was still the perfect victim, and sometimes it was hard to tell if he was driven more by Maria's emotional manipulation and torture, conveniently only feeling remorse after it was too late, or by his own hunger both the physical need and the mental desire to feel something that wasn't pain.

William's thoughts were racing, he was so distracted by Lochlann's unsteadiness. When Lochlann first pointed accusatorily, he would've been afraid or guilty if his demon wasn't clamping down on all his feelings. As it was he just stared at the young man's finger and blinked slowly. He was sorely tempted to just grab his arm right there and then, but he didn't want a dead body in his waiting room. He barely even noticed how random a question about the colour of the vase was, simply saying, "It is black." He had never paid much attention to the decor and was really just saying it so the young man wouldn't obsess over it.

When the young man pulled the pill bottle out to show the doctor, he read it without taking it, still shifting from foot to foot slightly. Then the wraith suddenly went very still. It would have been a marked contrast if the young man had even been able to notice the doctor's previous behaviour. He held out his hand for the young man's wrist, "I need to take your pulse."

The moment he held out his hand for the young man's wrist, the doctor had dropped any pretenses that he wasn't going to drain him. It was actually kind of relaxing to stop fighting. His face was blank and concentrated, no emotions to read there, and his hand was steady as he reached out.

William's gaze remained on Lochlann. He could see how anxious the young man was about the vase, but he really did not care. And now that he'd made his decision he did not want him to bolt for it because of a silly plant container. He hoped his voice was calm when he tried to reassure him, "Yes it is black. Very black. I would not lie about such a thing." At least the young man seemed to believe him, so he was fairly certain it wasn't white. This close to feeding the wraith would very much lie about something so trivial or anything else he could get away with, but he didn't think he was. The doctor was pretty certain it was at least some neutral colour close to black, simply because he would not have bought anything garish and he didn't think Maria would come out just to buy a vase.

The wraith took the young man's wrist gently in his hand. His grip was definitely firm, but not so tight as to actually hurt. He tried to murmur something soothing but really was too focused on where his hand met the young man's bare skin to really say anything. Lochlann's arm was hot to touch, but his energy was cool at least. The doctor's draining was slow and steady. It was not a rush, more like something calm, like drinking water from a fountain. The weakness settling into Lochlann should be steady too, mild dizziness at first. The wraith knew any rush would come when the young man died, although his focus would continue to narrow anyway. That was what he regretted. That was what he hated. But always later. In the moment he was just anticipating some relief from craving.

William would have empathized with Lochlann's wants if he had realized how much they drove him. The empathy wouldn't have moved him at all, but he could definitely comprehend what the young man was going through. He knew about the drug addiction, was aware he was probably taking advantage of it in some small part of his mind that wasn't completely captivated by the feeding. He may even regret the young man's death even more, later, than he usually did. None of that was going to stop him satisfying his own hunger right now.

The steady chill was growing stronger now or the wraith had just stopped noticing anything else. He thought they might almost be at the halfway point, but this young man was clearly not human. He should have been much closer to death by now, especially weakened by his overdose. The doctor could actually feel his slightly erratic pulse and it didn't seem as affected as he would have suspected. Not that he really had much of a concept of time right now. It was moving too slow and rushing around him and he was just a pinpoint floating in it.

Not so far gone that he couldn't feel the young man slouch, but not quite able to find the concentration to speak, the doctor automatically put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. He wouldn't be able to hold him up, though; he was nowhere near strong enough. This was why most of his victims were lying down or at least sitting.

He needed this - he needed to stop the hunger - he needed the young man to die already because the steady flow of energy was not enough to soothe his cravings and the still-lingering taste of illness was just making it worse. A piece of him knew it was enough, that he was solidifying, that he was probably getting younger already, but that was no help to the other piece, the part that held on. No matter how much he lied to himself when he felt sorrow again, he was not murdering people because he needed to do it to stay alive, he was doing it because at the end of the day it only felt good when his victims died.

Lochlann slumped further and said something in a slurred voice William couldn't even pretend to decipher. The doctor tried to help the young man lower himself to a sitting position, but when he spoke to explain all that came out was a frustrated whisper of, "Sit!" He'd also closed his eyes at some point, unaware he'd even done so.