Clemente
Okay so clearly cursing is fine. Sweet. Clem wouldn't know what to do if he had to give that up. It's like, 90% of his vocabulary. Mostly because the poor kid could barely read but y'know. Semantics. And other words that he doesn't know the meaning of. Eesh, age stuff. Clemente looks down awkwardly and shrugs a shoulder. "It got hard to keep track after Mom died and I was on the streets...I think I'm sixteen though." Birthdays didn't matter much when you couldn't keep track of the days, only watching the seasons go by. Eventually he had started marking the years by the firework displays at the beginning of each new one. It had helped, but it wasn't a solution. He still didn't know when his birthday was. Keeping the information about the bite tucked away, he gives a subdued sigh of relief at the notion that he won't be forced into sex again, but to be fair you didn't have to be able to achieve an erection for the types of acts he'd had to force his body into.
It's easier to focus on her words, on the way they sound, instead of the nightmares that prickle hot behind his eyes. Clem does deign to scoff playfully, warmed up enough to give her a fanged, mischievous grin that lights up his entire face like he should never wear any other expression. "What's the fun in that?" Trouble was his middle name after all. If he didn't find it first, it always found him.
"But don't they sleep at night?" he asks with a frown, face scrunching up in annoyance at the idea of being separated from the general populace all the time. Hopefully there were some night owls around who wouldn't mind entertaining an annoying little vampire. "And what's LongNight? Can I help?" It's a little too revealing, how he keeps offering it, but he cherishes the feeling of being needed. It's the closest he can get to feeling loved.
i stopped being a kid the day
you sent me down here to die
