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Leo is not new to being a vampire of the Red Court. He's not a noble or anything, but he's been around for a very long time. He's reached the ripe old age of 600, outliving his noble father and the vast majority of his bloodthirsty sisters, almost entirely by being a filthy coward. He has no pretensions to the blood of milk-pale virgins; he's perfectly fine getting his dinner for the week under a bridge. He occasionally keeps slaves, but only rarely. Most of the time, he occupies himself with reading, and painting, and delicious, delicious blood. On occasion he indulges in a good alleyway lurking.
This is one of those occasions. Chicago's alleyways are not particularly well maintained, but they're better than the slums of Toledo in 1632. Leo likes them. They're meditative, and often contain convenient homeless populations.
His eyes fill with tears, for the first time since 1562. He's- unsure. How do mortals do this? Feel like this, all the time, nothing telling them what to do?
"Can I come with you?"
His cat meows.
"...Eh?" he says. She repeats herself. "...Cath wants to know if you would like cat snuggles," he translates.
"...I wouldn't mind human snuggles. If they're on offer," he allows.
"I will definitely hug you," says Milo. He will even let Leo insult his cat, just this once. She didn't seem offended.
Leo holds out his arms hopefully. (He doesn't wanna get up. He just grew a soul and had a ragefit, both of those things are tiring.)
Which reminds him. "How am I going to feed? I can drink from cows and all, but I need some human blood with it too, it's not just a physical thing. And I can't feed without addicting some poor bastard, which, you know, I'd rather not do."
"Um. That is a problem," Milo admits. "But I'm sure it's a problem that can be solved with a little creativity - do you have to actually bite people to get their blood out of them?"
"No, but I doubt I can walk up to someone and say 'hello, might I borrow a cup of your blood?' Seems a bit of an investment."
Okay, that would be more crying. Leo's not sure he can control it anymore, so he pushes off Milo and hangs his head over the bare ground and just sobs.
"Um. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you..."
"I- fuck," Leo sobs, "I don't- you're, I'm f-, I'm, happy. I'm just. I can't- there's too much, too many feelings."
Leo appreciates petting, but continues sobbing.
Eventually he finds it within himself to say "Fuck souls. This is awful."
Should he halfheartedly apologize again? Milo decides to just pet Leo some more instead.
Eventually Leo makes an effort to wipe himself off. The effort is a miserable failure. He sighs and, forgetting his audience, reaches up and rips off his face.
Then it remembers that Milo is present, and looks mortified. "Oh, shit, sorry, I just- sorry, the- Jesus, okay. So... human form. It's an illusion made out of... stuff. There was no way I was going to get that clean, so... got rid of the stuff. I'll make it back again. Sorry. Fuck."
He hesitates. "Startled? Not, like- horrified? Repulsed, appalled..."
"Startled," Milo confirms. "Adjusting rapidly. Not at all horrified. My best friend is a cat, Leo, I am used to people who aren't human and don't look it. I just haven't previously known anyone who could casually tear their own face off. Does it hurt...?"
(Slowly, the edges of his face are creeping inward.)