Old Man
I walk upon him fast. I grab the shoulder of an older man grey ponytail and goatee
“Old man! Take all those nasty rumours now multiply ten times; still not even close.  Your friends are absolutely correct I do toast my mates, "Vive la mort, vive la guerre, vive le sacre mercenaire!” I am staring him in the eye. He is visibly uncomfortable.
“Can you imagine the pressure of someone who learned not to feel at 16? Now imagine someone has awakened me. What do you think happens when I am awakened? I will tell you it is like a bag of very pure china white shot into your neck. It is so powerful, that it knocks the monster that I am, on my arse. It is so beautiful, that I cannot believe it.
You talk trash about her, because you feel slighted. I don’t care what you feel, and at your age and an ex-wife you have never been hurt, is that even possible. Know this I don’t fucking care!
You are now doing something you are not capable of dealing with consequences’ that is pissing me off! There are pieces of blokes, younger, stronger, and harder than you in the sink, when I floss. Walk out, or be carried out, and old man either way works for me.” I turn my back to him. He won’t attack, or mention the conversation. The look on his face is pure fear. Some people are Doctors they heal, some are accounts they regulate finances. I am a Vampyric walking study in demonology, and fear is what I do.