“Anybody like me? Oh, you mean psychopathic vampire who doesn’t give a damn about human life?” he asked, smirking. “Well the good news is that you don’t have to love me.”
Summer’s gaze went entirely flat. “I /knew/ you were holding out on me. Nobody faces death like that, not even a vampire. Put your fucking pants back on.”
Damon pulled the small bottle of blood out of his bag and took a sip, grimacing and stuffing it back in his bag. He started healing almost immediately and stumbled back over to his bed, landing face down. “My house. If you don’t want to see me half naked, you can leave. Faking my death was supposed to keep you safe and away from me,” he said, looking back at her. “So… Yeah. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“There’s a foreclosed sign on the door! Stop /lying/ to me!” She clenched her fists. “If you want me to just leave you alone, fine, just say so. But don’t dress it up in concern for me — and since you are concerned for me, give me a little fucking agency!”
It took her a second to realise she’d said ‘since’ instead of ‘if’, and then she bared her teeth in deeper rage.