It didn't sound as though she believed him. Perhaps she didn't fully understand him, on this matter, being mixing freely with humans, being present through the turn of time and civilisation, wasn't the same as missing it. It was a shame if he couldn't convince her of it. Ishmael only liked to be involved.
"Oh, but I like the view so much much better from this side," Ishmael explained, with a blooming grin. Not losses, but gains. (As a human, he'd had nothing and been nothing. As a vampire, he had lived a hundred more lives in the bosom of humanity than he might have otherwise, and plenty close enough to enjoy it.) "I'd shake the hand of whoever turned me, if I could," he joked.
He'd told himself this before and would tell himself this again. He was pleased to be this way. He was grateful. He was lucky.
Ishmael stretched his arms and legs from where he'd been sitting, catlike, and all of a sudden, his tone had changed, his eyes gleaming. It was dark outside, the darkest and quietest and emptiest the night would be, the witching hour. The devil's. "But what do you say, Galina? It's the dead of night - shall we take a turn outside?"
"Oh, but I like the view so much much better from this side," Ishmael explained, with a blooming grin. Not losses, but gains. (As a human, he'd had nothing and been nothing. As a vampire, he had lived a hundred more lives in the bosom of humanity than he might have otherwise, and plenty close enough to enjoy it.) "I'd shake the hand of whoever turned me, if I could," he joked.
He'd told himself this before and would tell himself this again. He was pleased to be this way. He was grateful. He was lucky.
Ishmael stretched his arms and legs from where he'd been sitting, catlike, and all of a sudden, his tone had changed, his eyes gleaming. It was dark outside, the darkest and quietest and emptiest the night would be, the witching hour. The devil's. "But what do you say, Galina? It's the dead of night - shall we take a turn outside?"
