maybe i should renew my paid
[Things have been... Surprisingly smooth, actually. Not to say it's been easy, and Eames has bitten clean through his lip more than once in his attempts to focus on anything except the smell and sound of living people nearby, but aside from the growing pains it sometimes feels like he was meant for this.]
[Of course that's mostly ego talking and Eames knows it, but that doesn't change how it feels.]
[It takes a while for Arthur to broach the subject of drinking straight from the source. He doesn't say it, but Eames knows a month is much longer than Arthur would've liked to wait, but he'd also guess it's both of their nerves that kept putting it off. Truthfully, Eames doesn't think he'd have any particular feelings about killing someone, but he has very strong feelings about losing control of himself. Probably why Eames keeps insisting he's fine with what's in the fridge and visits to Antonia that Eames is steadily enjoying less. Probably because he absolutely twigs that smug look on her face with the unfortunate frequency of their visits. Though Eames does feel a little better whenever he convinces Arthur to let him contribute or foot the bill. He might not have hundreds of years of accumulated wealth, but he has more than enough.]
[When Arthur brings up the topic of drinking straight from someone though, it sets off an anxiety that Eames doesn't fully know how to deal with, so he immediately decides they both need coffee to give himself a moment to get his head on first. Bringing them back with a more calm expression as he presents Arthur's to him.]
Okay, so how does this work?
[Of course that's mostly ego talking and Eames knows it, but that doesn't change how it feels.]
[It takes a while for Arthur to broach the subject of drinking straight from the source. He doesn't say it, but Eames knows a month is much longer than Arthur would've liked to wait, but he'd also guess it's both of their nerves that kept putting it off. Truthfully, Eames doesn't think he'd have any particular feelings about killing someone, but he has very strong feelings about losing control of himself. Probably why Eames keeps insisting he's fine with what's in the fridge and visits to Antonia that Eames is steadily enjoying less. Probably because he absolutely twigs that smug look on her face with the unfortunate frequency of their visits. Though Eames does feel a little better whenever he convinces Arthur to let him contribute or foot the bill. He might not have hundreds of years of accumulated wealth, but he has more than enough.]
[When Arthur brings up the topic of drinking straight from someone though, it sets off an anxiety that Eames doesn't fully know how to deal with, so he immediately decides they both need coffee to give himself a moment to get his head on first. Bringing them back with a more calm expression as he presents Arthur's to him.]
Okay, so how does this work?

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[He sighs and nods.]
Listen, I think you're ready for this, but if you're worried about anything going wrong we should talk about it now.
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[He shrugs a shoulder, still trying to come across nonchalant and unbothered, but it's less to do with Arthur than it's just the way it's easiest for him to reason things out.]
Obviously if you know someone experienced with this sort of thing, that's best. I'm not exactly going to know how much is too much.
[A slight pause because something else occurs to him, but even if he looks like he has something to say, Eames doesn't.]
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[He reaches out to take Eames' hand, to be soothing and affectionate.]
Something I used to remind myself was that it was more important for them to walk out alive at the end of the night than it was for me to feel good for a day or two. A full body's worth of blood will only keep you at that level for a week or so at most; it's just better to get it in smaller doses and that way you don't have something terrible on your conscience. Or an expensive mess to clean up.
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[He says it and raises an eyebrow like it's a joke, but it's obviously a valid concern.]
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Maintaining self awareness is just about practice, which you've already been doing with the fresh blood down at the club. This'll be more overwhelming, but you're still fighting the same instincts.
[His smile goes a bit wry as he looks down at their hands.]
Besides, even if I weren't still strong enough to pin you down, every bloodworker carries some kind of silver with them for protection. That kind of pain will bring you back to yourself very quickly.
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It's just a lot of things I don't know yet, and you know I hate that.
[There's a playful uptick to his voice; as much as he hates not knowing things, Eames does very much enjoy figuring them out. Talking about it, he half thinks it's just a matter of taking that first step to get over any anxieties kicking about. Then he can work at it.]
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[He has a playful tone in his voice as well, but there's still a hint of weight there. He leans in to give Eames a kiss on the cheek.]
I'm sure this'll be fine.
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Well I trust your judgement. Even if I don't necessarily trust myself.
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[He neglects to say that it's a process that never really ends. There are still scenarios that Arthur doesn't trust himself in, but they get fewer and farther between with every passing decade.]
I should probably make this call.
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[He squeezes Arthur's hand with a tight smile and nods.]
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[She's a sophisticated looking woman. Nice clothes that make the long sleeves and scarf look like a fashion choice rather than the cover-up it actually is. She's approaching forty and she makes it look good, confident as she walks into the apartment and looks around.]
[Arthur stays between her and Eames as he introduces her. She's Joan and she's happy to meet him.]
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[He is achingly aware of her presence though, and even with Arthur between them Eames maintains a little distance. He's had plenty of blood already, but he can hear her heart and her breath and smell the life on her, and it almost feels as though he's been starving in days with the prospect of a fresh meal standing here in front of him.]
[Once the introductions are done, Eames moves to lead the way to the bedroom and asks Joan if she'd like anything before they get started.]
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[She makes herself comfortable and explains that she only lets new vampires drink from her arm, which Arthur agrees is a pretty good rule, and that she has a thin silver chain that she wraps around her other hand in case she needs to push them off. She says she always gives a verbal warning first but she's not afraid to use it if she needs to.]
[When that's all done she rolls up the sleeve on her left arm to reveal a smattering of scars from previous bite, including at least one that looks like it got a little ugly. Arthur takes Eames' hand, still standing somewhat between them.]
For right now you can just bite where the scars already are, but we can talk about how to avoid tendons and ligaments later, okay?
[He looks at Joan and gives Eames' hand a squeeze.]
You ready?
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[It's a brief moment of hesitation, there's no point putting it off really, nor does Eames really know why he'd even want to. Some part of him clearly has no interest in waiting any longer; his fangs are already out and he's practically salivating already.]
[He's not sure anything in his life has ever felt this good, and when Eames bites down and gets that first taste he lets out a quiet groan despite himself. He swallows and it's like feeling his whole body come alive, everything sharper for it. Eames has to fight with himself not to bear down harder, shoulders squaring with the tension it takes not to tear into Joan.]
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[After a little while, Joan gives him a little nod and he puts his hand on Eames' shoulder carefully.]
Eames?
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[It's probably only a few moments, but it feels like an eternity that Eames spends wrestling with the knowledge in the back of his mind that he should stop, versus every instinct in him screaming that he needs to drink until there's nothing left. His grip on Joan's arm tightens for a moment, but just a moment. Of everything, it's his pride that wins, though just barely. It's not a desire not to hurt her, or wanting to avoid any problems, or even some sense that he's had enough. It's the weight of his ego refusing to allow him to be some uncontrollable monster. Not on a full stomach at any rate.]
[Even with that resolution, he's slow to stop. Grip relaxing before he lifts his head, (pausing first to lick up some rivulets of blood that escaped, of course,) gaze fixed on those neat little punctures with the knowledge of how easy he could go back for another taste. He has to force himself to look away, looking at Joan's face. His smile is probably a little grim, but he forces one and clears his throat. She's probably used to seeing similar anyway.]
I'll get you something to clean up.
[It's really an excuse to put some distance between himself and the smell of fresh blood, but it also only seems polite.]
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[When he comes back, it's with that forced nonchalance as he sits down and asks Joan if she minds before he wipes up her arm and applies a little of the cream. It's for himself rather than her, and maybe it's a little shitty to test his resolve on her, but Eames needs to know he can do this. Even if he has to clench his jaw and square his shoulders to control himself.]
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My wallet's out in the entryway if you want to get going.
[He waits for her to get up before he follows her out, putting himself back between them.]
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