Ryah practically bristled. "No, I don't need to be carried like a helpless kitten or damsel in distress," he said, fighting back a scowl, gathering up what was left of his things. There must have been something to the vampire saliva because now that he wasn't on the verge of bleeding out, he was feeling a little better. Less like he was going to pass out. He didn't want to think about it though, think about how good it had felt, how he had practically begged the other to--to--<br/><br/>The brunet didn't relish the thought of traveling by rooftop but he knew the streets below would be swarming with cops and medical personnel. There was no way either of them looked innocent, but the risk of getting arrested versus the chance of falling to his death? Ryah knew which option looked better to him.<br/><br/>"Let's get going," he muttered, waiting for Drake to lead the way. "I'm not nearly drunk enough to tell my life story to you." And perhaps, despite everything that they'd been through together, Ryah still wasn't sure about Drake. He'd had it ingrained into his head for years, that vampires were never to be trusted, that they were nothing but soulless monsters. How could one single encounter change all that? Even if Drake didn't seem to be on the same level as those other bloodsucking demons. He certainly didn't run in the same circles, from what Ryah could tell. "You gonna share your tale of woe if I share mine?" He asked in return, as they reached the edge of the roof, where their first crossing was a small drop to the roof below.<br/><br/>He could do this, he told himself, feeling his heartbeat quickening, thudding in his chest. It was just a small drop, barely more than eight or nine feet. He'd faced more difficult tasks. It took a moment for him to steel his nerves and jump down to the shorter building but when he did, Ryah let out a hiss. He'd forgotten about his stitches and they pulled and screamed in protest. He was fine, he told himself. As long as he didn't start bleeding again.