Boastful? Well, he was a dragon. And even though he was still in the proverbial dragon closet with regards to his neighbors in Summerview, he couldn't help exhibit some of those overbearing and narcissistic qualities that came with being one of those winged beasts of yore. And an old one (well, relatively) at that. Rasmus felt like that earned him a special place in supernatural society. Granted, it just made him come off as an occasional self-centered arse, but hey—
He was an important one.
Lub-dub-lub-dub.
"Oh? Do you promise? Will you bite me? You can draw blood. But don't make promises you can't keep. I'd hate to find myself lying in bed all night dreaming about something that won't happen. No, no, no. Don't go as a vampire. I'm already brokenhearted over the entire thing. Please! Just stop!"
Cue the instant dramatics. Rasmus was a little peculiar in that sense. He had a tendency to let his inner monologue (which rightly ought to be kept to himself) run away with him.
He glanced down at his basket of worthless 99¢ candles. Then he kicked it gently with the toe of his boot.
"Piece of shit wax."
He ran his fingers back through his hair and pursed his lips. He quirked a brow at Red's leg. Then his eyes went wide.
"What the fuck, man? Do you have restless leg syndrome?"