Getting the Fang of It

I'm writing vampires. Yeah, I know, who doesn't? Of course, I can't even get this right. Instead of brooding, as he should, Harvey, my vampire, is rather snappish with the slayer who tried to stake him. Poor Gabe.

Anyway, here is a little snippet. It's nothing final, still in draft phase.

Gabe awoke with a start. Harvey was sitting up too, observing him intently. They stared at each other for a few tense seconds, before the vampire lowered his gaze -- all the way to Gabe's crotch. Gabe followed it to see a large wet spot there. Sometime during the night, his grip loosened over the plastic bag, and the melted ice soaked into his pants, creating the most embarrassing wet patch ever.

"I have a dryer you can use," Harvey said, snickering.

"It was ice. You have sharp knees."

"And you have sharp sticks."

Gabe felt uncharacteristically contrite. "Yeah, uhm, sorry for staking you. I might have been a little too hasty."

Harvey made a dismissive gesture. "Don't mention it. Good thing you're a lousy shot."

"You moved."

"Ah! My bad. Is that how hunters do it? Ask the deer to hold still?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure--" Gabe caught himself. "Are you always this mouthy?"

"Why? Anything wrong with my mouth?"

"Aside from always flapping?"

"Yes, aside."

Gabe's gaze was drawn to Harvey's pursed lips. No, there was nothing wrong with them. They were exceptionally fine. And it wasn't just those lips; for someone covered in dried blood Harvey looked…nice. Gabe remembered the stake he'd been holding when he'd fallen asleep -- it was gone. He patted his cargo pockets, but they were empty too.

"I put them away," Harvey explained. "In case you woke up in a homicidal mood. You seem very impulsive."

"Where--"

"They're safe, don't worry. May I suggest an official ceasefire? No slaying each other for a while. What do you say?"

Gabe screwed up his brows. "It's highly unorthodox. Why would I trust you?"

"Why would I trust you? I've abstained from killing you or even feeding on you twice so far. You on the other hand, have shown far less self-control. You really don't have the moral high ground here."

"But you are--"

"Don't start with that whole bloodsucker bit. It's getting old. You could try to be a little less dogmatic."

"Okay, fine," Gabe replied, gruffly.

He didn't like being told off on an empty stomach. What annoyed him even more was the fact he couldn't argue with anything Harvey had said. Uncle Miklos was probably spinning in his grave.