Later, Konstantin will hate the fact that his eyes immediately drop to that welt of inflamed skin on the other man's bottom lip, evidence of a wound (of blood). It's the natural way for his eyes to go, maybe; when he talks to people, he looks them all over, welcoming conversation to him with bright eyes that roam a person's face, not shying away from it. He tends to watch people's mouths when they speak, and it often makes women blush (he doesn't dislike that fact).
But here, it's like some beacon, a thing that his eyes were drawn to instead of going there of their own free will. He stares for maybe a beat or two too long (and it's not with hunger, no, he's not hungry, but over time he's come to associate blood with 'feeding' all the same. Where do the lines begin and end? If the monster is inside of him and he keeps it fed, doesn't that make him a monster, too?)
He forces his eyes up to meet Louis de Pointe du Lac's, a name he certainly hasn't forgotten. There's a flare of genuine curiosity to what the other man's saying, and the cosmonaut's brows lift, brain churning thought against thought.
"That's something worth looking into," he agrees, somber but enthused by the prospect, and he glances back to the bodies for a moment.
"Has anyone found any reason to believe that this thing... targets specific people? Could it be possible it has a destination in mind, and whoever happens to be there at the time, just ends up..." The words trail off, obvious enough without him voicing them. Like this, features contorted in fear.
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But here, it's like some beacon, a thing that his eyes were drawn to instead of going there of their own free will. He stares for maybe a beat or two too long (and it's not with hunger, no, he's not hungry, but over time he's come to associate blood with 'feeding' all the same. Where do the lines begin and end? If the monster is inside of him and he keeps it fed, doesn't that make him a monster, too?)
He forces his eyes up to meet Louis de Pointe du Lac's, a name he certainly hasn't forgotten. There's a flare of genuine curiosity to what the other man's saying, and the cosmonaut's brows lift, brain churning thought against thought.
"That's something worth looking into," he agrees, somber but enthused by the prospect, and he glances back to the bodies for a moment.
"Has anyone found any reason to believe that this thing... targets specific people? Could it be possible it has a destination in mind, and whoever happens to be there at the time, just ends up..." The words trail off, obvious enough without him voicing them. Like this, features contorted in fear.