The sunglasses Mitchell wore only kept a fraction of the harsh sunlight out of the vampire's sensitive eyes. Most of his kind preferred to stay in during the day, even if the suns rays didn't kill them the way it seemed to affect other types of vampires. But Mitchell needed some damn space. The Hyperion was tense and he just wanted out for a while and a walk, even a walk in the bright sunshine of August LA, was the answer.
He wandered around MacArthur Park, wearing a jacket and his usual fingerless gloves despite the heat. Vampires, always cold. Or maybe it was just him.
He wasn't sure what first attracted his attention, if it was the sound of crying or the tempting, taunting scent of the blood, but one of them, maybe both, made him turn and spot the girl, throwing up and sobbing. And barely breathing. Well that wasn't good.
Ignoring the cravings the smell of blood induced in him, Mitchell headed over to the girl at a run, crouching down next to her.
"Hey, hey, hey," he called out, in a soft tone, the Irish accent coming through clearly. "Calm down alright? Just breathe, you need to just stop and breathe." He tried to keep his voice as soothing as possible, hoping he was heard through her panic attack.