[Yeah, yeah, he gets it, Tate is a moody teen, how original Tate is with his huffy little sighs. Cass just does a fine job of ignoring the attitude, but the question is less easy to ignore. Shoulda seen that one coming.]
Enough... why?
[It's a weird thing to ask, but he assumes it may just be for the pure sake of edginess.]
Know what I feel? I feel like you're just tryna provoke me for the feckin' sake of it, lad. This bitter loner act is cute and all, real edgy teen shite, but it'll get old real fast.
[Cassidy seems more frustrated than angry, his new bottle of whiskey delivered just in time for his to snatch at it and swig. Why must everything he likes try and hurt him?]
I get the feelin' you weren't all that great at makin' friends and keepin' 'em.
[A sigh, like he hasn't heard that a million times before.]
Most of 'em usually are. Anti-vampire propaganda for the most part. No better way to scare the masses than tell 'em what they should fear are a buncha murderin' bloodsuckers.
And nah, lad, no such luck. We didn't get catered to, we got hunted. Most times I just got meself some donor blood, failin' that, wildlife would do in a pinch. Doesn't have to be human to keep us goin'.
Nothin' like that. Got bit by some crazy hag, she got shot 'fore she could finish me off, and I fell in a river. Woke up later confused as shite. Not really all that excitin', I'm afraid, lad.
[And yet Tate is one of the few to hear the tale. Reminiscing about the past isn't really a thing Cass does.]
[Another swig of his drink, and then a vaguely impressed sort of nod.]
Good guess there, lad.
[And for a moment his eyes flicker upwards as he tries to dredge some old ass memories from the back of his mind. He can math.]
Nineteeeen... twenty seven. Yeah. Was thirty by then, good age to get bit, I reckon. Can you imagine lookin' under twenty one for an eternity? Christ, it'd make life a pain in the arse.
[Yup, who on earth would wanna spend a long ass time stuck as a teen? Truly the worst.]
Left it behind. Everyone thought I was dead anyway.
[Verging on melancholy, but they're some old ass memories that he's had time to come to terms with. Sort of. As well as an emotional boi like him can.]
Got on a boat to America, starry eyed at the Statue of Liberty, the usual old Irish immigrant shite.
Right?! Fresh start, just like this place. Not everyone gets a chance to start over, but I had bloody hundreds of chances. Should consider meself lucky.
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Enough... why?
[It's a weird thing to ask, but he assumes it may just be for the pure sake of edginess.]
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[Cassidy seems more frustrated than angry, his new bottle of whiskey delivered just in time for his to snatch at it and swig. Why must everything he likes try and hurt him?]
I get the feelin' you weren't all that great at makin' friends and keepin' 'em.
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You think it's cool to be talkin' about murder, eh? Is that it?
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I don't do that sorta shite, lad. I'll protect me and mine, but I don't go out feastin' on folk, if that's what you're hintin' at.
[Maybe a few slip ups in his early vampire days, but he doesn't need to be mentioning that. We all make mistakes.]
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[A sigh, like he hasn't heard that a million times before.]
Most of 'em usually are. Anti-vampire propaganda for the most part. No better way to scare the masses than tell 'em what they should fear are a buncha murderin' bloodsuckers.
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[Very informative, there.]
And nah, lad, no such luck. We didn't get catered to, we got hunted. Most times I just got meself some donor blood, failin' that, wildlife would do in a pinch. Doesn't have to be human to keep us goin'.
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[And yet Tate is one of the few to hear the tale. Reminiscing about the past isn't really a thing Cass does.]
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Good guess there, lad.
[And for a moment his eyes flicker upwards as he tries to dredge some old ass memories from the back of his mind. He can math.]
Nineteeeen... twenty seven. Yeah. Was thirty by then, good age to get bit, I reckon. Can you imagine lookin' under twenty one for an eternity? Christ, it'd make life a pain in the arse.
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Left it behind. Everyone thought I was dead anyway.
[Verging on melancholy, but they're some old ass memories that he's had time to come to terms with. Sort of. As well as an emotional boi like him can.]
Got on a boat to America, starry eyed at the Statue of Liberty, the usual old Irish immigrant shite.
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