"Wannabe..." Damon echoed the man, laughing to himself for a second or two. He blamed Anne Rice and the Twilight franchise for making a joke of his everyday life. At least he didn't have to suffer the embarrassment of sparkling in the sunlight, though.
Without any kind of warning, Damon leaned forward and tore into the man's neck without mercy. It had been a long time since he'd tasted fresh blood. He had been stealing from blood banks for most of his stay in Lawrence and he'd forgotten the kind of rush that came with the fresh stuff. He could feel a sort of strength slipping into his system as he drank, though he didn't take much. When he pulled his face away from the man's neck his mouth and cheeks he had some blood smeared on his lips and chin. His anger had turned it into a messy ordeal.
"No, I'm the real thing." Damon cocked his head to the side, studying the man's reaction to what had just happened. He hadn't gotten into this fight expecting a snack. If anything he had wanted to dodge something like this entirely. It wasn't just because he didn't want to leave a messy blood trail, but also because he didn't want Galinda to witness such a thing. In the haze of the fight he'd forgotten his objective entirely. He dabbed at his face with his jacket sleeve, wiping off the traces of blood.
Coming back to reality, he glanced over his shoulder to check on Galinda, make sure she was still with them. Even if she didn't need any kind of medical treatment, he suspected she'd need comforting. This had to have been a scary situation.