some guys think they can't be winners

[beanchaointe]

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[phonetically]

( Vampire or no, Stiles is sure to make the least amount of physical contact with anything inside besides the soap dispenser and the sinks.

Coming out of the bathrooms, he wipes his hands on his pants, casually glancing around him (19). )

[impetere]

[It's not so much what he sees as what he smells. While some might have been able to tune it out, someone in Stiles' position can't, as the craving that he's been fighting to keep at bay all evening bubbles up again. The copper tang in the air bypasses his nose and rests heavily on his tongue, reminding him just how much that human food he was trying to eat earlier wasn't going to cut it.

His eyes are drawn to the tree line as the evening wind brushes past his face.]

[phonetically]

( Someone is bleeding back there. Being a hero and being a vampire propels his legs forward, away from the bathrooms and the crowds he leaves behind approaching the tree-line. If asked, he wanted to help, but his baser instincts are kicking in, too. And his hunger he'd suppressed. )

[impetere]

[It takes some time to walk there, as the body is closer to the highway than it is to the carnival. But as he walks, the heavy iron scent of blood get stronger, combined with some of the other things that come with a dead body.

It's dark, especially with the lights of the carnival washing things out, but upside of being a vampire is that dark vision is a thing.

Make another perception check, Stiles. Also, a will save.]

[phonetically]

( The walk is longer than he anticipates. He should've turned back, should've called Scott and Cora, or the authorities, maybe a Winchester, or whichever Salvatore he's on good terms with. Instead, he goes it alone.

He doesn't try hard to see through the darkness, (5) because the iron-copper smell invades his nostrils the closer he gets, (1). He fought it off, he had Cora and Scott, and support, but here under the cover of night diving in seems harmless. Something has already been attacked.

Someone. He knows the smell of human blood. But, they're dying anyway, right? It doesn't matter what he sees. His eyes go black as his fangs drop. He drops down at the body's feet and bites. His 1 means he is not delicate, careful or frugal about the blood he does drain. Anybody would think he hadn't eaten that morning. )

[beanchaointe]

[The blood tastes bitter, but it's still warm, so the body hasn't been dead long. Stiles is so blinded by hunger that he doesn't think of the details he might be overriding, or the evidence he's erasing. All he can do is drink.

Fortunately, the body's already dead.

He's not so out of it, however, that he doesn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him, a steady, rhythmic sound that stops just behind him as he feasts.]

[phonetically]

( Between having his fill (and having eaten before) those steps do bring him out of his hunger-driven attack. (Can you attack the dead?) He freezes, looking up, but not back at the person who found him. )

You should get out of here. Forget you saw anything.

( And it occurs to him, he can do just that, speeding up and around to come face to face with -- )

-- L-lydia.

[beanchaointe]

[Lydia's not entirely there.

While she looks at him, it's more like she's looking through him. She lost awareness somewhere between here and the carnival. Her head tips, staring over Stiles' shoulder to the corpse behind him.

A moment later, her head tips back, and she screams.]

[phonetically]

( Maybe, this close, Stiles would crouch down and hold his ears as a human, but as a vampire, his eardrums burst, sending him to the ground. And when those eardrums form again, they burst. Again. )

Ly- Lydia!

[beanchaointe]

[She comes to not long after, and as her mind clears and she realizes where she is and what's happening, she sees the blood lurking from Lydia's ears and her eyes widen.]

Stiles? Oh my god, I'm sorry.

[She ducks down to try and get a better look at the damage done, and when she sees the blood and the body, she startles.]

What happened?

[phonetically]

( His ears recover again as her scream ends and Lydia comes to. It takes a second for her voice not to echo inside his skull, but her words finally make sense.

He shakes his head, remembers, and gets to his feet, facing the body and backing away. He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand. (14) clears his head. )

I - I smelled blood and found the dead body - he was already dead - and I - I couldn't stop -- he was dead, Lydia. I swear he was dead.

[beanchaointe]

[Lydia doesn't know much about being a vampire, but she does know Stiles (18). She's seen him lie about something like this before, and none of the signs are there. He's anxious, yes, but she doesn't think he would lie to her about this.]

I believe you.

[She shifts, reaching into her purse and rustling around to pull out a pack of makeup wipes.]

Here. Use it to clean up.

[Even if it won't do much for the blood on his clothes, at least he won't look like he just chowed down if someone none supernatural finds them first.]

[phonetically]

( He makes sure to wipe along his lips and around his mouth, presenting his results to Lydia, ready to wipe more blood away if he missed any. )

This is what they don't tell you about being a vampire. You're walking circumstantial evidence.

[beanchaointe]

[She nods as she takes the wipe from him, tucking it back into her purse. His face is clean, but she leaves his hands.]

If non-supernatural people show up, you were trying to save him, not eat him.

[And it is a him. Laying behind them is a man in his twenties, with his throat torn out. It's hard to say which damage was done by Stiles and what originally killed him, but he doesn't seem to have any other wounds beyond the throat.]

[phonetically]

( He nods, putting his attention on the body. He moves closer and crouches down, trying to inspect what he can beyond, man in his twenties. For an FBI agent on leave, he's shaken up from the evening to not get a true handle (8), (what else can he tell, if anything?) and he does decide to check the man's pockets. )

[beanchaointe]

[As far as evidence on the body is concerned, it's too dark to make anything out clearly. Lydia does try to fish out her phone for her flashlight, illuminating the corpse so they can try and see what they can find.

However, when he does go through the man's pockets, he finds a wallet. Credit cards and cash is gone, but his license remains: Ivan Rozpedowski, 25, from Norfolk, Virginia.]

[phonetically]

( The wallet in his hands, he now realizes his prints are on it, so he uses Ivan's clean part of a t-shirt or whatever he's wearing to wipe it down and uses his sleeve to slip it back in. )

Ivan. From Norfolk. In from out of town. With the carnival?

[beanchaointe]

Maybe. I'm not sure where these people are from.

[And Stiles will pick up footsteps approaching from the distance, moving quickly towards them. Lydia can't hear them, however, and she just continues to hold her phone over the body.]

I'm not seeing any other wounds. Someone must have left them to bleed out.

[phonetically]

No defensive wounds.

( (8), so he can't make out how many footsteps, but he can hear it. )

Someone's coming this way.

[beanchaointe]

[Lydia turns to look, the flashlight on her phone coming up and catching Damon right in the eyes, as he arrives first. Cora and Scott are not far on his heels. She relaxes when she sees him, before lowering her phone.]

Sorry. For that and for getting banshee-d on our date.

[Yes, Stiles, it's a date, not now.]

[phonetically]

( Damon brings a hand up in front of his eyes as the right blinds him enough to give cover to the scene before him. (11) It'll take him a second to adjust.

"So, that's your scream." )

[beanchaointe]

Yep. That's my scream.

[It's a real hit at parties. Scott and Cora catch up at this point and Cora moves past Damon to Stiles, looking over his shoulder at the body.

"What happened?"]

[phonetically]

( "Lydia pulled a wailing woman." Damon helpfully contributes. )

And I found a body. Lydia banshee'd and I - ( (7) to lie ) smelled blood.

[impetere]

[Cora knows Stiles well enough by now to know that that's not the truth (16). But at the same time, she's not sure if the guilt she's sensing off him is "I murdered someone" guilt. It doesn't feel like it's enough.

Still, she doesn't call him out on it, swallowing it down behind the Hale Mask of Indifference^TM.]

Should we call the cops?

[She turns back to Damon, as he's the one of them most likely to have had to deal with bodies in Mystic Falls.]

Do you know someone?

[unforgivably]

( Damon, not knowing Stiles, suspects there's more to 'smelled blood,' but Stiles also doesn't seem like the type to throw two werewolves and a vampire on a wild goose chase after killing someone. Newbie vampire freaks out, they cover it up. Stiles isn't giving anything up.

Scott trusts his best friend inherently, if he smelled blood, he smelled blood. )

I know the cop. Are we calling them in? ( It is best he get ahead of this, as he slides his phone out and nears the body (4) for perception on the body. )