Conbat watched, too starved to be horrified, as Worth withdrew a scalpel and pulled away the bandage at the base of his right wrist, revealing all sorts of scars already there. In a matter of seconds, an alarmingly deep slit was made straight across an already abused vein, and then Conbat just snapped.

He was lapping and suckling at the blood flow as the appendage was shoved under the coat with him, and eventually, the little bat ended up nestled in the palm of Worth's hand, his now-normally sized claws latched onto the arm to keep the right angle. Only when the careful shifting of Worth's hand around him, did Conbat come back to himself.

The blood flow was thinning slowly and the bat growled in frustration, clawing at the slit and aggravating it into bleeding a bit more. A rough chuckle came from above him. "Easy there, Fido. There's only so much left in me," and then car doors were slamming shut, and Worth was walking down the alley, jingling his keys and whistling, stumbling as if he were drunk. Conbat felt a little terrible for the man. Only a little.

The door to Worth's hole in the wall creaked open, and a sarcastic, "Home, sweet home," tumbled out of the Aussie's lips. Conbat nearly shrieked when the coat he had been huddled under was whisked away, leaving him cowering in Worth's hand under the single, florescent light bulb. The man was leering down at him with a slight frown stretching one side of his mouth down. "Yer good now? No' gonna rip any'n 'part if ya turn human 'gain?"

Conbat mutely shook his head, then thought better of his answer as Worth dropped him down onto the rough surface of his desk. "Right. I'm'na go sleep a bit then, yeh? Disturb at yer own safety." And that was that. Worth disappeared through the back room and into his private quarters, a few mutters and curses flowing out like his native language. Lamont, Hanna and the Zombie were all silent, Lamont finally turning to look at the maroon bat on Worth's desk.

Conbat immediately shifted back into his human form, hopping off the desk and averting his gaze. "Well, Conrad, you must've taken quite a bit out of him. He almost never willingly goes to sleep," Lamont nonchalantly flicked the tip of Conrad's nose, the vampire immediately jumping away with a snarl.

"Not my fault the man never takes care of himself," it came out in a harsh, defensive growl, as he made his way to the corner of the office and into one of the cupboards. It was true; he had taken quite a bit of blood from Worth, but Conrad knew he was still dangerously close to snapping. Pulling out a blood bag, Conrad stepped away from the cupboard and back around behind Worth's desk. A protective barrier of some sort.

Lamont was laughing quietly at him now. He chose to ignore it in favor of sinking his fangs down into the plastic, relishing the flow of blood. Until Lamont threw a pen at him. Honestly, the Franco-Italian was getting on his last nerve. Snapping with rarely shown, inhuman speed, Conrad tossed the half empty blood packet down onto the table, vaulting over the desk even as the delivery man was saying, "Haven't you had enough?"

Before anyone could really quite register it, Conrad had Lamont pinned to the floor. His skin was crawling, as if something was struggling to escape, his fingers like talons and crushingly tight on the other's shoulders. A shudder ripped its way up Conrad's spine and over the sound of his own gnashing, pointed teeth, the (slipping) vampire could hear every single heartbeat thumping against Lamont's rib cage He could kill him. The terror is the Franco-Italian's eyes almost made him want to.

But, leave it to Hanna to manage to break up a potentially dangerous and fatal situation. "Conrad, you're disturbingly ugly as a demon. Put your humanity back on." The ginger gave him a toothy grin when Conrad finally managed to break his glare aimed at Lamont, and with a last, tiny shudder, the vampire shoved off of the package handler and got himself under control.

He heard Lamont's stuttered "Thank you," aimed towards Hanna as he snatched the blood bag off the desk and stomped away into the back room, determined to get away from the idiots in the office. Nobody followed him back through the twisted hallway of Worth's personal quarters, and for that, the graphic artist was thankful. He didn't quite know where he was going, either, until he was standing in the threshold of the bedroom, watching the faint rise and fall rhythm of Worth's skeletal chest.

He sighed, an internal battle going on within his own head. Finally giving up, Conrad tiptoed his way into Worth's bedroom and dropped down to sit beside the mattress on the floor. He watched silently as the man's eyes fluttered behind his closed lids, breath even and slow, mouth slightly open. The man looked more relaxed in that moment then Conrad had ever seen him before.

The illusion was shattered though, when Worth swallowed once and spoke. " 'M no' really 'sleep, ya'kno'." The Aussie never even cracked an eye open. Conrad jumped slightly, looking down at his hands in his lap sheepishly. Neither male said anything for a while, so Worth spoke up again. "Why ya back 'ere, Peaches?"

"I - I'm sorry. Trespassing and everything. I can leave, if you want me to." Worth scowled, still not opening his eyes. "Di'n't ask fer ya ta leave. Asked why ya were back 'ere." Conrad shrugged, even though he knew the other couldn't see the movement. The vampire took an unneeded breath in, steadying himself.

"I just...wanted to get away from the idiots out there." Worth's scowl turned into a smirk as the man moved his hands up and under his pillow. "I c'n understand tha'." The two fell silent again, Worth seemingly slipping into sleep and Conrad fiddling with the now empty blood packet in his hands. Without really meaning to say it out loud, Conrad mumbled one last thing.

"Thanks, Worth."

A delayed chuckle. "Damage control, Fagula. S'wot I do best."