There's something so appealing about the idea of leaning forward and kissing her right then and there. Bodies intertwined, spirits caught up in passion in order to avoid misery, the bar leading to a dark corner then a room. A night away from everything, pretending she's not a vampire and forgetting about all the bloodshed. It's tempting, intensely so for a moment as the vision of what could potentially be passes through his mind. Assuming she's interested, ignoring that it's a terrible idea.

Kyle pushes past it, returning his attention to the bartender as their drinks arrive. He's not the cheating type, even when he wants to be. But he does want an escape. There's a part of him that longs for the deserts of rural South Africa again, or the dirt roads of Soweto. He misses knowing people have his back and having someone else's. Here, he ultimately feels isolated and lonely.

"When you can't walk and you can't give up, you crawl," he replies as if quoting, something drilled into him during training. Kyle lifts his new beer in an offer of cheers. "To crawling. And to bloodsuckers who don't suck blood."