"Why don't people like you?" she had asked, and Janos smirking, shrugged. “Because they are dried up prunes with their dicks and pussies stuck in the mud. I am galling or something, I don’t care. People who don’t like me I don’t like them either, so it’s a mutual dislike. Who wants to be friends with dried up prunes except other dried up prunes?” Sometimes Janos went weeks without talking, And other times he went weeks without shutting up. It might seem as if Dahlia was about to catch him at the beginning of one of those chattering binges. Lucky her!
He nodded. “Yes yes, tell her I won’t bite her. Tell her how good I smell! Can ghosts smell? If they can see and hear, then I think they can smell too, yeah?”
And there he had something galling. Abrasive, as some people put it. For someone so old, he seemed to seriously be lacking a filter. Either he’d lost it along the way, or had never had it, and never found it. Seeing her face, he realized this. “Oh, well, maybe it’s not the same at all.” Die was what he’d heard, but… “Sometimes things are lost in translation. You know, this may come as a surprise to you because I speak it so brilliantly, but I wasn’t born speaking English.” And the truth was, some of those people he offended it was no real fault of his at all. Anyway, they were the assholes if they couldn’t get over him trying to learn new customs and languages! Yep, their loss all the way around.
“Yes, I think we can.” He answered, since she had seemed to ask a question. He chuckled. She did that to him, made him happy. He liked the way she had questions for answers, and some times when she didn’t even realize it, there was music in the way she spoke. Yes, she did make him smile. He was told once before that his smile was a kind of off-putting, a little creepy. Well, he guessed, that would tend to happen with vampires. Especially if they sometimes went years without a smile