Elena had been nervous to ask Damon to take her out feeding, although it had been something that had been playing on her mind for a while, even before she'd arrived in Lawrence. But it had never seemed like the right time at home and then it had been too late. Even when she'd first arrived, it hadn't been right. Now, though, in England, away from everyone they knew and everyone that would judge her, Elena had decided to just let go and enjoy herself. Damon had wanted her to ever since the beginning but she had always been hung up on the idea of hurting innocent people. However, she'd realised, with all the talk of her being a mass murderer, that there really were worse things than snatch, eat, erase. She would never be the type to go after someone frail or harmless, and she didn't ever want to be, but there were people all over the world who could do with just a little taste of just desserts.
Even in the short time they'd been in the club, Elena had noticed more than a handful of people acting like douchebags, and she felt a little tingle of a thrill at the thought of paying them back for it, even if they wouldn't remember. She was a vampire vigilante, she mentally teased herself.
But the thing that thrilled her the most was the sensation of being alive, truly alive, and carefree, and that was something she had only been able to experience with Damon. He wasn't ashamed of what he was, what they were, and he had never once made her feel ashamed of it. Stefan had wanted to fix her, Jeremy had wanted to kill her, Caroline had pitied her, Matt had missed her, Bonnie had chastised her but Damon had only ever supported her. She was a vampire and he made her feel like that was actually alright. Tonight, even if it was just for the one night, until the sun rose and she'd have to resume being conscientious, she was going to believe him and revel in what she was.
Elena looked up at her boyfriend through the darkness of the club, making out every beautiful angle of his face with her vampire eyesight, and hungrily pushed herself up onto her toes to receive his kiss, her body moving flawlessly against his in time to the music.
When he pulled away and told her to pick someone, she didn't have to look for long before making her choice. There was a man dancing not too far away for them, who, for the last fifteen minutes, had been making a beeline for anything female in a short skirt. She'd watched him as he singled out his next victim, sidled up to her, danced with her innocently for a few minutes then proceed to slip his hand beneath her dress. Most of the girls had given him a glare before moving away, leaving him to continue his sick conquest on the next unsuspecting skirt-wearer to come along, but the girl he was writhing against at that moment was obviously too drunk to really understand what was happening to her.
"Him," Elena said quietly to Damon, knowing he'd be able to hear her over the pounding bass, motioning with her eyes towards the man. "I pick him." Her gaze returned to her boyfriend, a little smile passing her lips, before she pushed herself up to give him a peck on the lips then let go of him, swiftly slipping away from him and through the crowd towards her prey.