He is walking down the bustling street on his way back home to his apartment, which was in a rather nice neighborhood. There was a library with a little park in front of it. There's some sort of stylized fountain in the middle of the park, where people like to through in pennies and wish on things. The streets are neatly lined with trimmed trees with not a speck of garbage in sight.

The city is still lively, even though the day was winding down. He holds a hand up, shading his eyes. The sun is still out, lending a hazy gray to everything. There is a pleasant breeze going and the usual heat of the afternoon is just dissipating. The perfect time of day. In his opinion, at least.

Suddenly the street's quiet. He turns around. "Where did..." Ah. Right, of course. Of course this had to happen to him. He follows the golden rule, "never walk home alone, on a deserted street, at night", everybody knows this, and yet this still happens.

He sighs. Queue ominous fog. He points with his finger like he's doing magic.

Fog sweeps in from the right, washing over his feet like waves.

He sighs again, looks up at the street lights. 3, 2, 1...They start flickering.

Darkness settles like a blanket over his eyes. Really. He huffs.

He keeps walking. "Wow, I never knew we had a cemetery in the middle of the neighborhood," he says in a monotone, "Oh, and look. Bats. Weeeeiird. Don't usually get them in the city."

His bag is getting heavier with each step and he doesn't seem to be getting any closer to his apartment, even though he can clearly see his door right at the end of the street. He knows he should just give up now and let it happen but he's really just very tired and put out and would like to get home to his nice warm bed. Why all these theatrics?

Ghostly chuckling.

He slows to a stop, makes a show of looking around. Breath on his neck.

A deep voice. "What's a young mortal like you doing out so late, hm? You really should be more-"

The voice is right behind him. He swings his arm back and grabs a part of the man so he can't flit away.

"Could you please, just stop, with the drama? Do what you must so I can get home."

More chuckling. "Young mortal, I am not after your pointless money-"

"Yes, yes, you've "come to suck my blahd". Could you get on with it?"

There is an uncomfortable silence behind him, even the environment seems to shift uncomfortably.

A clearing of the throat, the voice is suddenly younger sounding, higher pitched. "Look, this isn't how things are usually done. I-"

He breathes in deep through his nose and heaves a long-suffering sigh. Fine.

"W-what do you want?" He makes sure to add a frightened wavering to his voice.

The atmosphere is back. He could sense the man's smile. Suddenly he is in front of him, his eyes sparkling black in a pale face.

"Look deep into my eyes."Alright, he'd humor him.

Putting on his best "terrified" expression he does as he's told. Of course the trick doesn't work since he is aware of what the man is, and thus has ruined the magic, but he'd play along. His body goes "slack".

"Now come with me."

He walks stiffly after the man. They end up in an alleyway. How original.

"Tilt your neck, pet, ah yes, just like that." Fangs glint in the darkness. Do they study how to stand in the lighting just right to get it to do that?

Sharp points of pressure then all-out pain spring from his neck. Mental sigh. No magic equals no magical numbness either.

The stranger smooshes him up against the filthy alleyway wall. He feels every pull of blood from his body. He is already tired after a long day at work and now this. This is just exhausting. The stranger is exuberant in his drinking and a result of the frenzy is pressed against his leg. Ah, great. At least he doesn't have to suffer the same embarrassment, what with the magic not affecting him and all.

Finally it is done. He feels the slimy tip of a tongue close up the holes.

The eyes are back. His drowsiness isn't faked this time.

"You won't remember what happened here tonight. You walked your usual route home, took a shower, and went to bed. Oh and you ate a steak. And an egg. And some spinach." He snaps his fingers and "melts" into the shadows. He can actually still see him but he doesn't want this to go on any longer so he about-faces and goes back to the street. Which is conspicuously bright enough to see again.

Ah, finally. He sees his front door. He fumbles for his key. He can have a nice long sleep in his nice warm bed. He throws his bag on the couch. Makes his way to the kitchen. Maybe he'll have some of that double chocolate fudge ice cream he bought yesterday, eat it in bed. Mmm, yes. That sounds like a splendid idea.