taxonomites | [Visual] EVERYONE I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE [also location: birdhouse]

For a moment the screen is at a crazy angle, and fingers smeared with blood scrabble over the glass, leaving red messy trails on the broadcast.

Paul Smecker rights the tablet, gives Taxon a visual of his face, paler than normal, dotted with sweat. The hand not holding the tablet is clutching at his neck, and blood is visibly welling out from between his white-knuckled fingers. His shirt collar is damp too, but the astute-eyed may see that it's mostly water, and not quite as bad as it looks.

He's sitting on the floor, leaned back against an overturned table-- a shambles behind him, signs of a struggle however brief. Paul sags against the table, tries to focus. Blood loss, his mind tells him, it's blood loss making him weak, shaky-- (not shock, not panic, not shameful fear over someone he trusted turning on him-- no, not weakness like that), but he has to focus, has to tell people.

"Dawn--" His voice is a croak, he clears his throat, tries again. "Anyone who's watching-- Dawn Summers's... a vampire. Attacked-- bit me..."

Yeah. Yeah, bit him, and the mere thought of that makes him start wanting to hyperventilate. Keep it together, Smecker-- but all he's seeing is an innocent face twisting into a smile out of hell, fangs gleaming. The strength, the speed-- how the fuck do you fight that? All his planning, and... he'd trusted her. Trusted-- stupid, fucking stupid.

"...hey.... Buffy?" Paul rasps. "So's you know-- holy water... works pretty goddamn well."

And then he closes his eyes, leans back against the table and tries to think. The tablet's heavy; he lets that hand lower it to his lap. His other hand is still keeping the pressure on the punctures on his throat; he tries to think, figure if he'd be better lying down or not. Elevates the wound, yeah, but doesn't let blood get to his brain either, hell. Handkerchief-- he's still got one somewhere, right? Pocket-- yes-- he folds the cloth, gets it over the holes in his throat, then lies down on the floor, taking deep breaths.

[OOC: So, I MADE A BOO-BOO, some miscommunication on my part. Paul's not as seriously injured as the initial tags would have suggested-- he won't be unconscious, and will be able to update people as to the situation. Anyone needing to alter their tags in light of that, I will offer you chocolate. Sorry!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Dawn was a vampire. A glitch, Angel instantly rationalized, knowing fully that he hadn't turned her (to his knowledge, as the culprit was an alternate, unsouled version of himself), Drusilla couldn't while that chip was still in her head, and Godric would never. Rose, he barely knew, but gut instinct tells him that someone who intends to remain secret wouldn't do a thing so foolish as to turn the sister of a known Vampire Slayer.

"It's effective, but only for so long."

"I wish those of you who know all this stuff would tell those of us who don't before we need it to defend our goddamn lives," Paul says, but he can't muster any actual anger to his tone, he just sounds tired. At the moment he doesn't know he's talking to one of the very vampires he's so paranoid about.

"It got her to stop biting me. If she comes back, I either try another bottle or I die, I fucking guess."

While Paul does have a point, Angel isn't exactly comfortable with handing out pamphlets on the various ways to kill a vampire to the public. Protecting one's self is always a good thing, but there were always those who wanted to stake first and ask questions later. He rationalized that fear of being taken down as more a fear of the help he could provide in other situations where having a vampire in one's corner would prove beneficial being taken away by someone's impulsive actions.

"Tranquilizers work. Elephant. Hatch that. It'll keep her out and down for a few hours."

"Good to know," Paul rasps. "Mental note, grab a tranq gun. Who am I talking to?"

He could figure it out using the tablet, but that seems like an awful lot of work right in this moment. Plus, Paul's a fan of introductions-- people say a lot about themselves when they explain who they are.

"Angel."

The answer is immediate, without hesitation; voice confident. Angel's not ashamed of himself. While he understands and doesn't blame those who continue to hold his soulless glitches against him, he knows that he wasn't in control of what happened to him. He is extremely wary of his curse, ever mindful of it. The fault is not with him where the hamsters take away his ability to control his demon and unleash it upon Taxon without the human soul keeping it under control.

Angel. Double-whammy there, bringing back both some of the first advice he'd gotten about vampires-- from Tara, quiet Tara who's gone now, but had patiently sat through eighty-thousand questions about magic and vampires....

That's one memory. The other's Dawn. Dawn before she was.... before, Dawn making a scared-but-brusque transmission, saying stay inside, stay safe, warning people.

He's talking to another one.

At the moment Paul's in no mood to be rational about it, no mood to be able to say good or evil, glitched or not-- the only word that matters to him right now is vampire.

"....nothing personal, buddy, but at the moment I'm not really sure I want to be talking to you."

Angel nods, not at all offended. "Understandable. I'd be of the same mind if I were in your shoes."

"Very understanding of you."

Don't hyperventilate, Paul, you've already given into embarrassing panic in front of one vampire.

"Maybe I'll ask you more questions when I feel a little less bleeding-from-the-neck. Until then, huh?"

"I'll answer what I can, should you have any more. Until then."

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