[Like yeah, they are definitely on the same flying carpet of understanding. Except for the twisting peoples heads off? She’s totally left that life behind (except when she’s hungry).]
Is everyone into blood where you’re from or is it just you?
[A cultural difference from the humans she knows, obviously. Or he’s just a freak.]
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Marceline circles around to face him, careful to float just high enough that she doesn't touch the cutlets all strewn and sticky. It's still gross. ]
You won't get any eggs now, genius, you turned that chicken into hot soup.
[And more importantly, he's not bleeding any more than he was to start.]
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[Wasn't that the point? He sucks on his bleeding finger, contemplative, apparently unaware of Marceline's own fixation on it.
Did the chicken die for nothing? Oh well.]
And we got a good show.
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Listen. I don't care about the chicken. Or the eggs.
[Her voice rasps, sharpens, and echoes from somewhere else that is not quite her mouth.]
I'm only hungering for what's in your veins.
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[He's happy to share. He extracts his bleeding finger from his own mouth and extends it to her, as an offering.]
You want some?
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What, just like that? Are you used to vampires or something?
[Humans never react like that. Like never. It totally kills her usual angle.]
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[This is normal.]
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Marceline grins, shiny white sharp teeth all shown off.]
You might not be totally lame. You're not a vampire, or a demon, or a cannibal [she can tell] so... why blood?
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[SO. NORMAL.]
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[Like yeah, they are definitely on the same flying carpet of understanding. Except for the twisting peoples heads off? She’s totally left that life behind (except when she’s hungry).]
Is everyone into blood where you’re from or is it just you?
[A cultural difference from the humans she knows, obviously. Or he’s just a freak.]
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[He doesn't seem bothered by this idea at all, however.]
Their loss, though! Nya ha!