[Since being killed by Drew, Toby himself has been in a frustrating state of unwell. Even still, he's concerned about Edgeworth since the man has enough trouble with insomnia as it is. Now, Edgeworth looks far more stressed than Toby could've imagined.]
It is quite complicated. [His gaze drops to the table a moment, his mouth is dry, and he's trying to find out where to start and what exactly he wants to say.] Not just because of who and what he is, but also because of who and what I am.
[He sighs, perhaps seeming melodramatic, but the truth is that Toby simultaneously feels guilty, regretful, and scared. Yet again, others have laid his secrets bare, and like before, Toby is still woefully unprepared to handle it.]
He's been rather upfront about being a werewolf, and I haven't been nearly as forthright about being a vampire. [Drew's anger bears down on Toby, and so he feels not only resigned but wants to disappear.] I don't enjoy it or embrace it.
It seems most, if not all, of the other vampires here can live off the much lauded synthetics provided by the government. Or perhaps the blood stored in so-called fresh blood banks, or frozen blood, the blood of animals, and so on. But I can't, and it's not for lack of trying. Without fresh blood, live blood as it were, I will starve and weaken. And in the sun's rays, I will die, burning up from the inside and turning into ash and dust.
[If Toby seems disgusted by all these things, it's because he truly is. There is no one who hates Toby more than himself.]
So before I even get into my dealings with him, I guess I should elaborate on my condition. Or rather, my nature or state of being. Because what transpired between us has as much to do with it as anything else.
action;
It is quite complicated. [His gaze drops to the table a moment, his mouth is dry, and he's trying to find out where to start and what exactly he wants to say.] Not just because of who and what he is, but also because of who and what I am.
[He sighs, perhaps seeming melodramatic, but the truth is that Toby simultaneously feels guilty, regretful, and scared. Yet again, others have laid his secrets bare, and like before, Toby is still woefully unprepared to handle it.]
He's been rather upfront about being a werewolf, and I haven't been nearly as forthright about being a vampire. [Drew's anger bears down on Toby, and so he feels not only resigned but wants to disappear.] I don't enjoy it or embrace it.
It seems most, if not all, of the other vampires here can live off the much lauded synthetics provided by the government. Or perhaps the blood stored in so-called fresh blood banks, or frozen blood, the blood of animals, and so on. But I can't, and it's not for lack of trying. Without fresh blood, live blood as it were, I will starve and weaken. And in the sun's rays, I will die, burning up from the inside and turning into ash and dust.
[If Toby seems disgusted by all these things, it's because he truly is. There is no one who hates Toby more than himself.]
So before I even get into my dealings with him, I guess I should elaborate on my condition. Or rather, my nature or state of being. Because what transpired between us has as much to do with it as anything else.