“Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.” Mao wanted to keep that air of mystery, but it would be an educated guess to assume that he was not a serial killer. If he was, then he’d have no reason to sneak into hospital morgues to eat dead people. He could just go make his own, right? He’d love for people to think of him as a dangerous beast, but it just wasn’t so. He was that cute playful kitten at heart still. Maybe time would change him. Harden him up even more. Or maybe it wouldn’t, if he stuck with good influences. “I promise I don’t bite hard.”
The idea of a supernatural fetishist made Mao laugh, he was sure they existed. And it wouldn’t surprise him if there were a few of them living in this town, it attracted weirdos like flies. “Sorry to disappoint but I don’t know much lore about me. You have no idea how many man eating japanese monsters there are! I only just finally narrowed it down once the whole turning into a cat thing started. You weren’t far off when you talked about kasha.”
After he had pinched Vaughn’s cheeks into a level of pink that pleased him, he let the man go and settled back down, though much closer than before. While his ego was indeed being inflated by all this flattery, he replied modestly. Or rather, truthfully. “Naw… Not really. My mom was the best at that.” She could get guys to do anything for her, it was a shame she got so caught up in the drug side of things. “My charm usually just lasts a night or two.” Enough for a party and a few quick fucks before people got annoyed by his immaturity and endless energy, or offended by his sharp tongue and short temper.
“What about you, hm?” He turned so he could face Vaughn while he talked, propping himself up with an elbow against the back of the couch and his cheek resting on his palm. “You could be doing better than hanging out with dead people all day. I mean, I don’t keep coming back just for the food, so…” He wasn’t as good with the compliments as Vaughn, not when he was being serious, but the sentiment was there.