"There's something else we've got in common," Raff told her. "I was for fucking certain that I'd tied one on a bit too hard the night before when I woke up with some arsehole losin' his bloody mind about the sun. Now, I'm not sayin' I hadn't neither, but it sure as shit wasn't how much the light hurt my head that he was goin' psychotic about."
If worst came to worst, Raff figured he was probably fast enough to grab her and fling her back up if she started tilting backward. He'd probably end up going over the edge instead, but that was fine. A little blood and he'd heal up just fine. She wouldn't.
Right, there'd been a question in there, before he'd gotten sidetracked by hangovers. Which he was certainly going to have after this. Whatever had been in that handful of pills was good stuff, now he was a little sad that he hadn't bothered finding out what all it was. "It was just about a year, for me. Little more, little less, days all start to blur together when yer in a fuckin' war. Literal war, not figurative one, before you go thinkin' I'm gettin' deep on you."
That was definitely not something that anyone had accused Raff of before. He was about as deep as a frying pan.
It was nice, though, someone asking him about it. It wasn't as if Raff had some deep, tragic backstory. Just a series of fuck ups, some worse than the others, and every last one of them his own damn fault in some way or another. It wasn't what the magazines wanted to hear out of their vampires, though, and he was certain that there was some cleaned and fancied up story about it out there somewhere that Claire's own brother had probably had a hand in, to keep the crowds from realizing exactly how little there was to admire about Overbite's newest member.