He was caught by Benji's gaze, like a deer in the headlights. Something was happening, making him freeze and nod a little numbly as his hands were caught, his chin tilted ... Wren wondered if his wild speculations were in fact reality. The brunette hissed a little when his neck was pierced, the brief pain seeding place to such a pleasant sensation it was hard to describe. It seemed his thoughts had been right, for once, but now they wandered as his hands lifted. He clung to Benji for support, feeling light headed and uncertain, but in the best of ways. He shivered, and let out a soft sound of disappointment when Benji pulled away.

"I ..." Wren shook his head with a nervous little laugh as he tried to collect his thoughts. "That was ... Thanks. I've always wondered what that might be like." And now he had so many questions, but some he didn't think would ever be answered. All for the best he supposed. With how most people reacted to vampires, he was sure Benji did what he could to keep his secret safe .

He didn't shake now, and his hands were warmer. Still, it didn't calm him when Wren spoke. Thanks? What kind of person said that? Who liked being taken advantage of like that, manipulated into giving something up that was so vital to survival? He studied Wren a bit curiously. He still had a while yet. "What do you mean by that?" He asked, not bothering to put a veil over his curiosity. "Most people don't exactly like to be victimized like that..." Of course they didn't mind what feeling came along with the bite, but the relative fear before and the lightheaded ebb of reality afterward wasn't to their liking. It was why most vampires preferred to hide, or revert back to a rather dead status of master-slave existence with a single, usually unwilling or manipulated human being. In other events, however, free-willed humans tended to take up a place alongside a vampire on their own, or at least with a bit of convincing.

He laughed, shook his head. "I would have volunteered if I'd known ... To be honest, vampires kind of fascinate me, and with my imagination being what it is ... Let's just say I'd already had the thought that you might be one." Belatedly, Wren realized he till held tightly to the other man. He contemplated backing away for a moment, but a sudden wobbly feeling slipping through his legs made him rethink that notion. What a surprising turn of events, such a strange thing to happen ... Wren loved it!

Benji shrugged out of the human's grasp when he realized Wren still had a strong, if a little shaky, grasp on him, leading him to a couch to st in case he was still too unsteady to stand on his own. "I guess you're pretty observant, aren't you?" He crouched in front of the human, sighing. Of course Wren was observant, he was an artist! He had to be observant, if anything. "So I suppose it's not in my best interest to try to wipe your memory of the recent event." He muttered. If he did, the odd feeling Wren would feel, that lightheaded sensation and strangely good feeling that came with losing a bit of blood without warning, would be very, very difficult to just explain away. It would probably be just a little more to fuel the fact that he already knew---or at least had the strong suspicion---that Benji was not, in fact, human.

Taking a seat beside Wren, Benji brushed his hair away from his eyes. "If you're so interested in them, I'll have to assume you've got a question or two about us? I've never really talked to a human about the whole thing..." But this one was different. Wren was so imaginative, so very bold, that it perfumed his blood so powerfully. And if vampires interested him so much, Benji would be able to feel that every day. Perhaps it would benefit both of them.

Wren had to laugh at that. Of course he was observant! "Well it was mostly my imagination coming up with wild scenarios, I didn't actually think any of them might turn out to be true." He collapsed onto the couch gratefully and sent a glance Benji's way. The vampire seemed rather reluctant to actually broach the subject of what he was. A shame, really, considering how fascinating many people thought vampires were .

"Questions, let's see ... Are any of the stereotypes real? If you haven't talked with anyone, human that is, about this ... Why are you now?" Benji was going to try and make him forget, wasn't he? Absentmindedly, the young man began doodling little clues into his sketchbook. A pair of fangs, a sketch of the man sitting beside him ... Things he knew would be obvious to him if he did happen to forget. Hopefully the vampire didn't notice the doodles.

Benji paused. "Um... S-stereotypes?" He'd heard many. That vampires took human slaves, lived with them as if collecting a harem. That vampires were basically nymphomaniacs with one thing on their mind beside seeking out sources of blood nightly. That vampires were violent and manipulative, frozen to the touch, slept in coffins and never came out into the sun. "Some of it's a little... exaggerated." He said at last. "And I certainly can go out in the sun, it's just... a bit painful." He stared at the painting of a sunny valley on a wall nearby. Not his work, certainly a beautiful thing.

Sitting back more calmly now, Benji shrugged. "You're a bit different." He admitted. "I can smell it. You're outgoing, and odd, and creative, an artist that thinks so differently from everyone else, and that comes out in your scent. It's so strong... like your presence, and personality. It's hard to..." Control myself... "... hard to ignore. I thought you might like to come around a little more often if you knew. About me, that is." He ended a little lackluster, staring down at his hands. His nails came to a light point, and were very sharp, though not as much as his teeth.

"Like what?" Going out into the sun was a painful thing for Benji then. That explained why the other man had been sitting in the shade earlier that day. He leaned to the side, listening intently and with growing fascination to the rest of the vampire's words. As he thought over everything, Wren's eyes traveled over the spines of each book he could see. Dark leather, embossed with so many deep colors ... They drew the eyes and calmed the senses.

"So you want to see me more often because I smell ...good?" To say that as odd was an understatement. O well, now that this had come to light there was no need to come up with any excuse to visit the library anymore.

"Like what...?" Benji repeated. "W-well, some things... I guess it depends on who you ask, really, it's never necessarily the same." He wasn't violent, not crazy, he didn't have ten humans lounging about upstairs under his 'spell'. While these weren't applicable to him, however, Benji knew others simply loved to give in to whatever desires or instincts showed themselves, no matter the situation. Benji, on the other hand, did his best to sit on those instincts and refuse to let them control him.

He shook his head, sending his hair flying and leaving it in a windswept mess. "It's so much... more than a smell, Wren. To me, your scent is more than a smell, or fragrance." It's a drug. "It's what you are. There are tones to it no human can replicate, or detect. And if you were to ask a variety of vampires you'd realize we all have our preferences. Some like workers, laborers, they have a strong will and thus, strong blood, a musky scent, less sweet. Others prefer young blood, children and teenagers, I've heard it said they have an intoxicating innocence. Then there are the ones that prefer blood from the old, aged like wine, with varying but similar scents and tastes to each. I, on the other hand, like artists, performers, singers, anything to do with the arts. But it's so rare to find artists that are so utterly dedicated and adoring of their craft that it leaves me speechless." It had addled his brain at first, Wren's presence. It was hard to speak, and he had only ever felt that a long, long time ago, when artists were obsessive with their works.

He was rather speechless at the moment, but for entirely different reasons. Wren had never thought of himself as overly dedicated to his art, to his various kinds of art, but here was was Benji saying he wanted to spend more time with him precisely because of such a thing. It was mind boggling.

Wren fidgeted slightly, putting aside the sketchbook and leaning back against the aged couch to look up at the ceiling with half closed eyes. Benji's reactions to him, they'd all been explained so quickly and easily. "I don't think I'm all that dedicated ... I just ... " It was hard to explain how he felt about his arts.

Benji raised a brow. "Your art reveres fantasy. Your mind works and your art shows it off, how detailed you can be to a specific piece, each given its own special point in time to be completed as it needs to be. Dedication comes in many different forms---you might not draw or write all the time, might not spend your days dancing or singing or playing your favorite instrument, but you don't have to. As long as you think, your dedication is clear. And your presence is so obvious, easily detected to your peers. And an artist may not like his work---no artist truly feels he's perfected his talent, but that I can feel you strive toward a set goal is enough. And the scent of a human has never lied, because the human can't control how they smell to a vampire."

And Wren's smell... It caught him like a hook and drew him in. It would never become old or boring. It would never weaken, or stale.

"Is it really that ... important to you, the scent of a person?" It was probably the only reason why Benji had even started talking to him in the first place. "Oh uhm ..." The young man blushed, lifting his hands to tug at the sleeves of his shirt. "What about my blood?" Wren still felt odd, lightheaded, but it was more pleasant then anything else now that he'd had a little bit to settle down and relax. Odd, he was indeed relaxed even though he was sitting beside such strange company.

Benji licked his lips a bit nervously. "The scent is only a first step in understanding what a person is. It's what helps a vampire pick out who they want, but more often, it does well to give a sense of who they are as a person. How outgoing they are..." He was biting on the tip of his tongue so absently that a sharp sting made him startle as one of his teeth slipped through the soft flesh---the wound healed immediately, though. "Your blood? It's just as strong as your scent. Bold, and sweet, and so obviously unique... I can't really explain it..."

There was such a veritable mix of undertones, so full of life, color, it made the world swim. It made him shiver, when his heart beat, when he felt it thud alongside that of the living human.

Wren still didn't know what to think of this, save that the situation was all too interesting to give up. "I'll stick around, as a donor maybe? I wouldn't be opposed to that ..." There would be rules to set down though, of when and how the blood could be taken. They would have to discuss their relationship too, if they would be friends or nothing more then casual acquaintances.

It was all so interesting! The brunette shifted and smiled as he glanced a little more at the a warm wood molding around the door frames, then back to Benji. He was sitting beside a vampire, and a potential friend at that. The long wait for friendship after his move, it was certainly worth it ... If this worked out.

Benji nodded quickly and clasped his hands together in front of him. "Yes! Yes, please... I... I mean, it'd be... helpful. A lot more helpful..." Now he wouldn't have to go out every night, or every couple nights, to search for a loner, a young man that happened to be an artist. It would save time in the evening, worry that he might slip up and be seen by someone he didn't want to be seen by. But this proposition was so good... How could he deny it? Suddenly he felt like a true vampire, eager to bite, to hold the human tightly so the effect of the bite fully set in, made them want more. He shook his head to rid himself of that. No, he wasn't a manipulator. Even if it was a natural reaction it was strengthened by the pressure of the vampire's arms around the person, and to him, it was a form of manipulation he could control a little.

He studied Wren again. "Um, I'd assume a line would have to be set." He said after a moment. "A certain time...? A... an amount?" It wasn't up to him, the taker. Wren seemed willing to give up his blood to Benji and as such, he set the limits.

He looked so earnest, so grateful... It made the young man's smile widen into an amused grin. Wren really quite liked the idea of this, unusual as it was. He'd always been fascinated by the supernatural, and now here he was in a situation where he could indulge in it as much as he wished. The thought sent a delicious shiver of excitement down his spine; Wren couldn't wait to see what the future held for him now. Things definitely weren't going to be boring anymore.

"Well, I figured evenings would be best for you ... And me too to be honest. I work day shifts at the hotel mostly, cleaning up after guests. As for a limit, I really don't know. I thought you would." His lips half opened as he thought of suggesting they experiment to see, but that was a little dangerous. It wasn't like Wren was used to donating blood in any kind of situation, certainly not in any such as this.

Benji nodded quickly. "Of course I know. I've learned over time how much blood I can safely take from a certain body." He'd been around for more than just a little while, too. At first he would count, and when he reached a certain number, he would stop. This being after several failed attempts and many humans that had lost consciousness. It had become second nature to him now---larger bodies could stand more blood being taken and thinner, smaller bodies had to be evenly paced to get as much as possible without causing harm or a loss of consciousness. Wren would have to be paced, he wasn't the largest in body. This time it had been a light frenzy, Benji hadn't wanted to harm Wren but he hadn't been able to take quite as much as he wanted to.

Hopefully Wren would be able to deal with a long time. If he went about it carefully, Benji could draw out well over several pints and Wren would be just fine, though perhaps a little more lightheaded and frazzled than this time.

Of course he did. For some reason the thought made Wren a little jealous, but reasonably it would be quite unhealthy for him if he was the only person Benji took blood from. It would make him anemic, sickly ... No matter how careful they might be. "I trust you not to take too much, then." In fact, the young man knew very well he was trusting the vampire with his life. Such a thought was thrilling, exciting, and knowing that he would be helping the other man to survive made it all the sweeter.

"So, do you need more right now?" He didn't know why Benji had reached out so suddenly ... They'd known each other for only a short time after all, which made reasoning out what could have made the vampire act in such a way nearly impossible.

Benji smiled, and was sure he showed his teeth this time. "I'm... I'm glad you can trust a near-total stranger with your life." It wasn't sarcasm. And though he said it, Benji wasn't sure Wren was speaking from an utterly logical point. Maybe he was still lightheaded enough to think this was a good idea...? Benji shook that idea away. He wasn't doing anything to effect Wren's train of thought now---he'd not taken much from the young man and certainly wasn't trying to make him say what Benji wanted. At least the young man wouldn't be the only source, that wouldn't be a good idea. It'd probably kill him over time. Benji had a few others he'd gradually tracked out, and while none followed the exact same route each day, they were predictable enough that at least one would be at his teeth by the end of the day. These, he mostly found around little coffee shops. They carried their bags of writing and painting and sculpting supplies or dancing costumes or instruments... The dancers had a lighter note, perhaps because of their fluidity on their feet. Sculptors had a bit of a thicker tone to their blood, easy to coat one's mouth, perhaps because of their preferred medium. Yes, he had a few alternatives, but none seemed to match Wren. None seemed so outgoing.

He reached out unthinkingly to press a finger gently against a white fang. A wince crossed Wren's face before he was able to stop it as blood welled slowly from the tiny wound. It was so strange, seeing how easy it had been for that tooth to pierce his skin.. "You didn't hurt me earlier, even though you could have done anything you wanted with me. I wouldn't have been able to stop you... That's enough for me." The artist smiled, shaking off the sting from his hand with a quick movement.

It was easy to see that Benji's intentions were good, that the vampire had no want to cause any kind of intentional harm to anyone. The library, in a way, supported the notion. If he wanted, Benji could have done terrible things with such a front, but he hadn't... So far as Wren knew anyway.

Benji closed his mouth tightly and pursed his lips. The small pinprick of blood had such a powerful odor he could almost taste it, and twitched slightly when he forced himself to stay where he was. "N-no, I'd never..." He shook his head. "I wouldn't use this power for anything like that..." Of course I would! I'd kill to get my hand son more than just your neck! Benji shook his head. "I have more self control than most of my kind."

Maybe that wasn't true. Benji couldn't stop imagining doing so many different things to Wren, each thought in such quick succession it didn't leave Benji time to shake one away before another assaulted his mind's eye. It made him feel horrible, and he stood. "Um, I've got some forms to reevaluate. They're nearing expiration and I need to call their members... You can stay as... as long as you like, no closing time here." He walked away on rather wobbly legs, back to the front of the library, and ducked behind the counter. Now that distance was placed between himself and Wren, Benji could think a little clearer, though in the back of his mind more physical activities still played out that he worked to ignore.

Wren sighed slightly, feeling like there was more that the other man refused to say. He knew such thoughts were out of place. The two of them had just met after all, and yet there he was expecting to hear everything going through Benji's mind, simply because he was there.

"Well I suppose falling asleep here won't be a bother then ..." He missed books terribly, and had a hard time sleeping in a room void of them, like his. Wren hadn't been able to bring his collection with him, they'd all burned.

Once he was focused, Benji didn't have to worry about his far too active imagination. He went about calling the members whose subscriptions were due to expire in the next few days. He never fully expected them to renew their contracts, but it was always a small sigh of relief when they made an appointment to come in to do so. Some of them were favorites of his, their creative and bookish nature appealing, and when they sat or lounged about with their books and sketchpads, they left their soft necks revealed so freely. Lulling them into a deep sense of security and wiping their recent memories afterward was simple to do when they were just reading, or drawing. They simply felt they had lost their place because their thoughts wandered.

And now there was Wren. Benji would have a bit of trouble looking to other sources now, since they didn't quite match this young man's scent. They were a little weaker. But they'd have to do, if he wanted to keep Wren hooked. It was a type of mind control, in a way, but he didn't control it himself.

The young man settled down on the sofa, shifting a pillow over to lay his head upon it and slipping off his large sweater to drape it over himself. It served well enough as a blanket, a necessary thing when you intended to fall asleep in such a public place. Wren eyed the books all around with a half smile and reached with his hand to pluck one from the nearest shelf. An old copy of Wuthering Heights, perfect! He began to read, losing track of time and place. Eventually, the brunette's green eyes fluttered closed as sleep enveloped him in its embrace. The book lay over his stomach, cradled loosely by Wren's elegant hands.

Time passed so quickly---Benji's focus was on a drawing he'd started on a few days ago, this of a willow tree much like the one he sat under this morning to sketch the flower many considered a pesky annoyance. It was nice to draw something with more flow now, rather than sharply spiked and pointed in his eyes. When it was halfway done Benji glanced up at a clock, surprised to see it had surpassed six in the evening. Standing upright, he stretched and shook, feeling a little cold. The blood had worn its way through him already, the small amount not having done much for him. Going around he looked at the sign-in book. Four others had come in and signed out books, but he'd been so focused that he hadn't even acknowledged them. But Wren's name wasn't there.

Going back the way he'd come before, Benji found the young human asleep on the same couch he'd left him. A chill in the air indicated that the evening had set in already and the sun was hidden behind taller buildings, and he started going around the first and second floors, starting controlled fires in the fireplaces. They were safe to leave untended, with no risk of breezes shifting flames to cloth or wood, or coals bouncing out. It would warm the rooms, including the one Wren was in. It wasn't unusual, but also wasn't often, that a person would fall asleep and stay in the library all night, and for that reason Benji kept quilts stored around on bookshelves and on the backs of couches. Pulling a red and blue one off a chair arm nearby, he unfolded it and draped it over Wren. That sweater would only do so much, after all.

With a light sigh, Benji turned and meandered to the stairs that led to the second, and eventually, third floor, to where he lived. Though the rooms were large, each was cozy and quiet, dark in color but warm. The door to these floors he did keep locked.

He shifted, groaned in his sleep. Wren's dreams were filled with images that branded his mind when he awoke. It was because Benji was a vampire. That alone had him thinking of all the allure of such beings, and the feeling of having fangs lunged into his neck. The young man rolled over, fell from the couch with a loud bang. For a moment, he looked about, disoriented. He only remembered where he was after looking at the bookshelves, and saw the tome he'd been reading lying on the floor.

A red and blue quilt, tangled up all over him, caught his eyes. The only person Wren could think of who would lay one over him was Benji. The thought had him smiling as he folded the material carefully and draped it over the couch.