He curled his arms tight around Monty, inhaling the scent of him and resisting the strange urges to laugh or bury his face into his shoulder or fall asleep right here. He half-nodded at the suggestion, let his head loll backwards to ready himself, but then jerked his chin abruptly to the corpse.
“We can’t leave him here,” Ishmael said – and he might be slurring, but even heroin couldn’t make him entirely stupid. That man had been drained of blood, and whoever it was, better he go missing than be found as drunk by a vampire in the morning. He wasn’t used to disposing bodies any more, but he’d done it enough times and Monty had too. Only this time he felt too full and exhausted to do as much as reach over and grasp the dead man by the arm, so that was up to Monty. Ishmael just let his eyes flicker shut. He wished he could sleep. He’d never imagined how much he could miss sleep.
“We can’t leave him here,” Ishmael said – and he might be slurring, but even heroin couldn’t make him entirely stupid. That man had been drained of blood, and whoever it was, better he go missing than be found as drunk by a vampire in the morning. He wasn’t used to disposing bodies any more, but he’d done it enough times and Monty had too. Only this time he felt too full and exhausted to do as much as reach over and grasp the dead man by the arm, so that was up to Monty. Ishmael just let his eyes flicker shut. He wished he could sleep. He’d never imagined how much he could miss sleep.
