At this, Harth broke his steely gaze and smiled. There was something strongly appealing in the knowledge that innocence had succumbed to darkness at such an early age. In a way, it made sense.
Some people were just born to kill.
"Just the two...for the moment."
Harth swiveled in his seat and stood, sizing the boy up. He was clearly human, yet Harth was not immediately motivated to kill him. Humans were frail, fragile beings, but the fire that burned behind the stranger's eyes reminded Harth that they could often be the most vicious monsters of all. Over the course of history, had it not been mere humans, not vampires, demons, or other beasts, who had nearly brought the world to its knees? It was a human whose avarice and fury lead to the extermination of six million lives. It was a human whose hatred for woman led him to slay them on the London streets and live in historic infamy as a "Ripper."
Yes, humans were the bottom of the food chain, but they certainly were not without their moments.
...and this human, for the moment, seemed to have that potential. Besides, if he proved boring, Harth figured he could always use the potato peeler he found in the kitchen on the boy's eyes.