But there was the vampire, mug tipped over his mouth as he drank the last of his hot sauce broth. He lowered it, panting in great sharp breaths, his cheeks bright red and his eyes wild. They barely seemed to focus on Wesley, locking and then slipping away and then locking again. “Did I… win?” he huffed. “Fuck,” was all Wes could say to that. He held out the milk.
