Phyllis
Amos set down his glass, ignoring the little voice in his head asking him if he should *Really* Be drinking with a vampire. He supposed it was easier knowing John was also drinking, though it may not have the same effect on him it did on Amos. That was another can of worms that he had to consider; John's seeming instability, and his vampirism. Currently he did not feel threatened by either of these things and that was a problem in and of itself, but maybe it was because John had been willing to put down Lenore that helped lessen his fear.

Generally he was quite sure Lenore had made herself an annoyance and a rude one at that; She was full of presumptions and he could recall her consistently believing she was right. She might not always come out and say it, but she often looked low and grumbly when she was corrected. Usually her opinions weren't even her own but his sister's. Amos had never much liked her.

"That's true enough," He conceded to John's conclusions about whether or not he should check in with the merchants about their thoughts of him. He touched, briefly, on the idea of seeing how long the rain continued outside before leaving but he wasn't sure what would be *Polite*. He dropped the idea to return to the conversation as John spoke of his book.

He had not quite expected John to be able to talk too much about his book, but he knew it was important to him. Something that they could easily talk about and focus on. Amos pauses as John excuses himself from the room, taking his moment of quiet to focus on his surroundings before John returns. Still the kitchen, barely used aside from the glasses they were currently using and the ice box. It's a bit of a relief when John returns with the red covered book, *Of Pens and Needles.*

"I saw this one out there," Amos says quietly, picking up the book once it had been set down. "I wouldn't mind borrowing it if it isn't an issue, I'm nearly through the one I picked up." Flipping briefly to the front page to see what may be there, he smiled hearing that the printers had sent him ten copies instead of one. "Maybe they made a mistake, or assumed you would want to give some to your friends or family?"
Benjamin
The Drama nodded. "Of course. This one became quite popular, it made my publisher a lot of money. Oh, I'm not sure if I told you, but I usually don't get money from my books. I don't care to, either, I prefer to make most of my money from my shop and my commissions." He chuckled after he finished speaking, then again when Amos mentioned the possible intent of the printers. He shook his head.

"That would be quite funny if it were the case, as, truly, I don't have friends or family of any kind. No, I explicitly requested a single copy, it was surely a mistake." He chuckled again, though this chuckle was a bit more hollow than the more jovial ones he formed out of habit. Though his sentence was phrased as some sort of matter-of-fact joke with no hint of strong emotion, the halfhearted laugh was drenched in loneliness and sadness. 

"Anyhow, I suppose I want to start with why I chose this title for the book. I wrote the book to have some grotesque themes to it, to unsettle the reader somewhat, and made the main mystery revolve around a certain serial killer whom the main character, a certain Opal Farxx, is after." The Drama sat back down in his seat and lifted up his glass of wine. Then, he continued talking.

"Opal is a crime fiction writer who has a pension for solving mysteries in her pass time, I made her as a sort of self-insert for Jessica herself. I chose the name of the book because it is revealed early on that Opal is meant to be the next victim of the mysterious killer. It is alluding to the fear and paranoia that Opal feels throughout the novel, and also a play on the fact that Opal herself is a novelist." He took a sip of his wine and looked at Amos, trying to gauge his reaction.
Phyllis
"You didn't." Though he wasn't sure if he was surprised or not by the revelation. It did sound odd but also didn't seem terribly out of place for the sort of character John was. "Does your publisher take all of the money then, or do you have the royalties given to another source?" It seemed as if both possibilities were equally likely. 

When John clarified that it was definitely a sort of clerical error, Amos didn't miss the again shift in tone when he laughed. He had, unexpectedly, struck a nerve it helped him understand that he was in fact the first person that had been upstairs in that little shop of John's. Even with all of his masks, behaviors and seeming hospitality, he supposed that keeping folks at a distance helped insulate John from discomforts and reality. 

So why invite a vagrant in?

"Grotesque themes, eh? Now I'm curious as to what this killer does." He pauses a moment, then, "A crime fiction writer?" He repeats, then chuckles. "Pens and Needles, now I get it." He closes the book while John is speaking to give the man his entire attention. The more he spoke of his pen name, the more Amos could nearly imagine the persona being another character for John to slip into. Especially as she had her own self insert into this book, much like John did for the one he was writing. A curious pull to read came to him, figuring perhaps he could learn more about John as much through the writing as he was through talking to him.

"Seems as though it would be difficult to write in the anxiety of not being quite sure if someone is following you," He comments, ignoring how his own life since escaping had been *Just that* Really. And how it had felt realizing Lenore was there in town, and that if she had been just a bit more competent, things may have been different. Of course, now he wondered briefly if John had brought up that aspect of the book on purpose. "I think I'll definitely enjoy it," Amos says, looking at the book.
Benjamin
"It goes to my publisher. They're a small company, I figured that, since I already have a stable job, the least I could do for them is let the proceeds from my books go to them." He smiled and sipped from his wine, then continued to explain the book.

"Ah, they are a fast one. Some people believe them to be a vampire, others a werewolf, but no-one quite knows anything about them, besides the fact that all of their victims are either very rich or have an unchecked criminal record. The killer also seems to be male, but that's only based on some eye witness accounts that got very, very brief glimpses of the killer." He smiled devilishly as he explained. 

"The fact that Opal is a writer isn't a cheap gimmick just for the name, either, it's a pretty central plot point. Throughout the story, she is writing a book that is, more or less, integral to the plot- of both this book and the sequel I am currently writing. Also, to help convey that feeling of anxiety, I wrote in first person. First person also allows you to create an unreliable narrator in some stories, if you didn't know. It's a trick I like to employ from time to time." He chuckled and looked over the cover of the book.

"Really, I hope you do. That book in front of you was one of my favorite to write, not just under that pseudonym but out of all the books I've written."
Phyllis
Amos nods, "I imagine they appreciate it. Printing books can take quite a bit if they're not well established, so I imagine that helps keep them afloat." At least when he was a child, printing books took quite a bit of effort. That meant that many books were more of a 'print on demand' situation than the an automatic decision. It was simply easier, with lack of literacy in some places, to put on plays. 

Given how enamored John was with acting and plays however, he could guess at where his fascination with books came from.

"A vampire or a werewolf?" He repeats, smiling slightly. He caught that smirk and it seemed vaguely familiar, as though perhaps he had just seen it, and noted it to himself. "It sounds as though the killings would be quite gruesome if they came from a werewolf, though perhaps that depends upon which sort they are." Though Amos suspected vampire. Write what you know, though he'd not know until he began reading. At least reading would keep his mind off his surroundings if it was as tense a writing as John said it was.

"Oh, I don't assume it to be a cheap gimmick," He says with a nod. "It just made a bit more sense knowing that. Though I can understand what you mean by a first person narrator being better for re-creating that sense of paranoia. It helps put you in their shoes, instead of feeling like an outsider observing everything." And of course, people always had their bias that came into being with these things. 

Chuckling, he nods and says, "It'll be something to read tonight, and I like the idea of it to be honest. I like puzzles, and it sounds like for Opal the entire scenario will be quite like a puzzle to solve. I'm sure I'll enjoy it."
Benjamin
"Like I said, few people had provided evidence, and not everyone is particularly... Bright, uhuhu." He feigned a slight hickup and covered his mouth. He excused himself and continued with the conversation. His words seemed to come out more slowly and with less dictation than before, almost as if he was slipping in a way.

"Yes... Though, it is a puzzle that's missing a few pieces... Hence the sequel." He tipped up his glass as if to sip from it, but seemed to realize it was empty. To remedy this fact, he poured himself another glass. He began thinking of things to make his face flush as he took the sip that he failed to take earlier. Actually, he was relatively tolerant to alcohol. He always had been tolerant, even as a child, but outside of wine and the occasional bout of social drinking he never had any reason to drink. It wasn't to any ridiculous degree, he was just about as tolerant as someone who had already built up their natural resistance. Right now, he was feigning drunkenness.

"You're a good man, Amos. I've enjoyed having you in my house." He chuckled, somewhat longer than usual, and took another sip. Though his composure hadn't slipped one bit, it would seem obvious that his mind was beginning to lag.
Phyllis
It seemed that alcohol worked on John much the same as it did anyone else, though he could only assume it seemed to sink in quicker perhaps because... Well, he suspected blood didn't cut alcohol as well as actual food did. He hadn't had much to drink himself, purely because he wasn't sure if he had any tolerance for it left. And he also wasn't entirely sure anything would happen anymore. He'd begun realizing his system was becoming strangely resistant to things it usually had trouble with.

"Right, you said you wanted to tie up loose ends in the sequel," He said, smiling and humoring John's apparent drunkeness. Granted he couldn't recall if folks typically became drunk this quickly, but who was he to judge? At the comment of him being a 'good man' he closes his eyes, given he can't agree with the statement, and smiles. "I've enjoyed being here and getting to know you. You ought to have guests more often, John." 

Pausing he then adds, "Do you need to rest, John?" He wasn't actually sure if vampires did rest, but he assumed they had to in a sense. Much like anything, or anyone else. "I can go if you'd like."