Andrei & Ashton
Ashton was never good at these kinds of things. It wouldn't have been so bad, maybe, if it had been anyone but Andrei, but as it was, this came as a kind of attack on his person, and it took a lot of barely developed patience not to dragon-out on the vampire as his arm came around his shoulders. Instead, all Andrei got was a scowl as the tall Icelandic boy continued walking.
"My name is Ashton," he said with a definitive jerk of his chin. Andrei reeked of alcohol, and it soon became apparent why as the blood sucker produced a flask. "No. I don't want it. It smells disgusting."
Despite their history of tense hallway meet-ups and that time they almost killed each other - or Andrei almost drew the dragon out of hiding by trying to drown him in the ocean - Ashton had still seen fit to rescue the other student on the night that nightmares came to life, just before he was taken by the warlock. Andrei had looked truly terrified, Ashton remembered. It must have been the same look he'd worn on his own face when the Templar Knights showed up to slay the dragon. He did remember, buried under the frantic outrage of weeks kept caged and abused by the warlock's minions, that Andrei and his fellow vampire Ben had leapt to his defense to strike down the Knights.
Giving an irritated sigh, Ashton reminded himself to be long-suffering. "What is it?" he asked in regards to the flask.