Luis
He noticed Amos's own inner conflict, as well as the claws. *That* Must have been the reason Amos was so affronted to showing the Drama his hand for some time. He chuckled, both to his own thoughts and in response to Amos's quippy line.

"You know her?" He asked, looking back to Lenore. He saw the pool of blood around her, and thought about the fact that Lenore used to have a life... For a moment, terror filled his eyes as he realized what he was doing... But soon, that feeling was gone. He felt numb again. He felt like... The Drama. He chuckled.

"Or should I say knew?"
Pearl
It's a logical enough assessment. Combined with the odd coloring on Amos' hands, it does seem likely he was attempting to perhaps hide the signs that the things could grow from them. It did now make sense as well why he had kept a hand hidden when they met.

His eyes shifted back to Lenore, the lifeless elf, and he exhales slowly. He saw, briefly, the flash of emotion that was quickly swallowed back up by something. A sort of mask he supposed though the flash was equally reassuring and worrying. "Not seen her in a century, but she wasn't very old when I met her. My sister liked her."

Judging from his tone, he had not, as there wasn't a lot of grief or worry in his voice. Wasn't a lot of anything except a trace of concern. "You've got something on your chin."

He wasn't aware he'd decided to say it until he did, motioning with one unclawed hand to his own face. Then he moved away from the entrance of the alley, and felt like he'd been hit with cold water as his body finally rebelled against the conflicted emotions and he vomited, using the wall to support himself.
Luis
The Drama watched this without reaction. This was one of the many outcomes that he expected from Amos. For whatever reason, he felt somewhat soft. Not enough to apologize, nor feel bad for what he was doing, but enough to try to console Amos.

"If it gives you any solice, she was rude, a liar, and she was trying to get someone killed. I couldn't tell much, but from what I discerned to be the truth a man born of noble blood who ran away from his old life to start anew is who she was trying to kill... If you ask me that's just disdainful." He scowled and looked at Lenore.

"Truly the scum of the earth... Those who wish to stunt the improvement of others..." He said with a hint of malice in his voice, though the malice he truly felt was more than just a hint. But... Those feelings resurfaced again. The image of Amos, a man who he had profiled as so calm and collected, seeming to fall apart in front of him at the sight of something that he had done... He gently tapped his stomach, right where his scar was. Adrian sat down where the Drama was squatting. He put his hand on his forehead.

"Jeez..." He muttered, eyes wide. He looked from Lenore's corpse to Amos. He felt sick.
Pearl
It took a few moments for the shock in his system to begin winding down. He still could not displace John's bloodied face, nor Lenore's pale white one from his mind, but while they were not *Comfortable* Images they were not conflicting anymore. He found himself employing old habits he had once picked up to tuck them away to deal with later. When? Well... Just later.

"Rude, a liar and trying to get someone killed, eh?" Voice rough from the expulsion of his stomach, but amused. "That does sound like Lenore. That's why Lyria liked her. Personally ambitious, but about as vacant as an empty pot." As he fell back on the sense that if you just *Ignored* What was wrong, then perhaps it wasn't there, or was never a problem to begin with. 

The tactic did not stop the weight of those claws from hanging 'round his wrists.

He heard mutterings and looked over, seeing John's wide eyed face and expression. The nausea that seemed to be settling into *Him* Now and hesitates. He doesn't hate John. He isn't even sure he's afraid of John though the unease still churns his belly. The blood is still on John's face and Amos takes a deep breath before walking towards him from the mouth of the alley. The claws slowly, and uncomfortably slid back into his skin. Setting his bag down he pulls a bit of spare cloth from it, holding it out to the man.

"Here, John. We need to go." If you ignored the light sweat from getting ill you *Could* Assume he was fine again, but he also was not looking at Lenore who laid so close by.
Luis
Adrian stared at Amos for a few moments. He remembered the Drama's malice towards Lenore and the people like her, but at the same time he remembered that he had killed her to do something as awful as... Drinking her blood. Just the thought of that made Adrian want to hurl. Then, he looked slowly back over to Lenore. He remembered he was hungry. He gently pushed Amos's hand away.

"No." He put the Drama's voice back on, though didn't slip fully back into character.

"I can't. If you don't wish to stay here that's on you, but..." He spoke with a hesitation uncharacteristic of the Drama, but moreso of himself.

"I'm hungry." He choked on the words as they came out. The bitter taste of them almost made him want to follow along with Amos, but he knew he couldn't.
Pearl
Withdrawing his hand he paused as he heard the familiar voice, though John still didn't quite seem like himself yet. There was a thought, momentarily, that it was just fine that he was not back to himself yet and more so that it was an odd reassurance. Still, as John spoke, as he expressed he was *Hungry*, Amos swallowed, and had to remind himself that a food source was right here and it didn't mean he was hunting a new one.

"Alright," He said, pushing himself up. "...Tell me if it's not enough then." Then he went to the entrance of the alley to wait. 

He felt less addled in his mind, but couldn't consider his thoughts normal either. With shock subsiding he was rather wondering what would happen if Lenore *Wasn't* Enough now that some time had passed since her death. Then what would happen? He adjusts his bag and bites the inside of his mouth as he considers whether or not the accelerated healing he had would mean he could recover from an attack faster; Or if lack of blood would simply be lack of blood.
Luis
As Amos rounded the corner Adrian looked hesitantly back to the body that lay before him. Reluctantly, he leaned in and bit back into her neck and got back to sucking. He hated doing this. Usually he would shut himself out and let the Drama do it, but he couldn't do that right now. He always dreaded letting the Drama take back over once he had full control. As he sucked, he felt his hunger slowly subside and fade. That only made him feel worse. Truly, though, what he hated most of all was that Lenore's blood was sweet. It almost tasted like caramel or some other candy- it almost made him forget what he was doing and enjoy it.

However, when he decided he was full and pulled away, that fantasy quickly melted in his mouth. With a shaky hand, he reached into one of his pants pockets and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off his mouth, then stuffed it back in his pocket. He stood up, trying to push off the feelings of dread and despair that overcame him. As he walked out of the alleyway, he felt his mind go numb. Then his feet. He felt dizzy.

"A-Amos...?" He asked, poking his head from the mouth of the passage.

"Can you walk me home?" He took another step forward, and his leg wobbled and wiggled in a way that caused him to collapse. He cursed as he fell to the floor.
Pearl
He waited, and questioned his sanity in waiting, but nonetheless waited at the mouth of the alley. Forcing himself to focus on the surroundings, and trying not to hear what was happening inside, he began humming one of the many tunes he learned from Beastkin and Oriates. It was an old habit he had picked up when he was stressed, but had no outlet for it. He closed his eyes until he heard the footsteps. 

John did not look well, and he wondered briefly just how long he had been a vampire. Or if he had ever been caught. He felt bad, briefly, about his own response but had little time to reflect on it as John suddenly went down after asking his question. He swore, and dropped his bag to help the man back up. 

"Come now-" As he slid a supportive arm around John, then picked up his bag, letting out a breath and acutely aware of the cold in his body now. He willed himself to ignore it, adjusting John and somewhat thankful he had recovered at least physically from captivity. He took a breath, then nodded, "I can take you home, John. Which direction do we need to go, and is it locked up right now?"
Luis
Adrian's breath was somewhat labored, and, rather than cold, he actually felt feverish. His extremities were still icy cold, but his core and especially his face were hot. Adrian reached up on top of his head to grab his mask, but before he pulled it down he looked at Amos, a small tinge of regret in his eyes. He seemed to flinch when Amos called him John.

"Amos, I have something to tell you..." He wrapped his arm around Amos's shoulder for support.

"I... I believe you are a very good man, Amos. Thank you." He said, his own guilt strangling the words in his throat. He wanted to fix the Drama's lies, but at the same time something stopped him. He groaned, feeling a slight pain in his stomach. He began to weakly spout off directions at a pace he hoped Amos could follow which would lead him back to the ceramics shop.

"Yes... It's locked, but I have the keys on me. I run a store, I can't risk my goods being stolen." He huffed.
Pearl
It was an odd feeling, and in the back of his mind he wondered if the blood in his system was perhaps.. Warming him or if it was something else. He felt the flinch and looked over, seeing the regret in John's eyes. He wanted to ask, but then it made perfect sense for the response to come from Lenore's death, did it not? He exhales at what he says however about being a 'good man', though after a moment says, "...Thank you."

He listened to the directions, which were both more and less than the directions he had gotten to other locations in the past and he figured he would find it. If he was going the wrong way, John could always correct him. As they began moving, Amos shouldering a bit more of John's weight, he smirked a minute at the huffed words, "Well, of course. You never know who's around really." Then he was quiet a while, but he didn't *Like* The silence. It just left too much room to think.

"I had a friend once some years back. We were stuck in the same situation at the time, but he had learned to make the best of it. He used to tell me stories of things his kits had done before he had to part ways from them," Amos said, filling in the silence that was allowing him too much time to think. "They were... Literal terrors from the sounds of it; Twins to start with. One was Maxine and the other was uh... Magnus if I recall. Golden eyed, nearly identical he said with uh... Black fur and identical tufts of white on their chest. Used to switch clothes just to confuse others."

"According to this old Tom, they had a habit of stealing things, but they were also just damned good at it. He would take them to the market to get the food they needed for dinner, come home and find them sharing some tart, or fruit, or tossing some oddity around that they had swiped while they were out. Or, if they were especially bored, they would apparently make a game out of stealing odds and ends from the town guard." He chuckled a bit, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "He would usually point to the white around his eyes and nose, and say, 'Those little monsters aged me three times faster than I should have!'"