Mark's eyes open slowly, and instantly things look different. It was a dark room he could tell, but everything could be seen with such detail. As though his vision had been enhanced greatly.

He brushes this off for now and slowly sits up from the small cot he laid on, instantly feeling a small ache in his shoulder. He thought back to what happened and once he saw the dried blood coating his neck and shoulder he remembered. Robin had bit him... And Jack had let him.

Mark forces away his angry thoughts about the Irish man and lets his hand travel to his shoulder where a small pain still sat. He wipes away some of the dried blood, expecting to see some mark, some wound, but there was nothing. No teeth marks, no scar, no sign that he was ever injured.

The red haired man's eyes widen as he double checks, then triple checks, even quadruple, unable to comprehend what he saw. There was nothing, but there was for sure blood.

"What the hell..."

He mutters under his breath, slowly standing from the cot. His legs wobbled beneath him, as though he hadn't used them for awhile, making him wonder how long he'd been out.

He walks forward, letting his brown eyes scan the small room he was in, it was almost like a jail cell, thick iron bars blocking him from the doorway that led outside. He walks forward, grabbing one of the bars and testing it, it didn't budge.

He moves to sit back down, before finally noticing the sounds around him. They were all louder than they'd usually be, he heard every single little creak from the building around him, every person that mingled outside, and every single pair of footsteps that passed by the door.

Certain sounds worse than others, making his head pound. He clutches his head with both hands, entangling his fingers in his dyed red hair and silently wishing everything would just shut up.

Finally a smell hits him, distracting Mark from all the noises around him with its alluring scent. He feels his nose twitch as it floats around the room, and as the door in front of his cell opened, the smell grew stronger.

Mark looks up to the smell, the first thing he see's is a familiar head of green hair, before his eyes travel downward, where a plate sat in his hands. On top of the plate was a pile of red, and unknown meat still coated in fresh blood.

The smell still made Mark's mouth water though the sight made him want to vomit.

"Hey Mark... How are you feeling?"

The Irish man speaks, gaining the red haired man's attention. Mark looks at him, stifling a growl that worked its way up his throat. Jack waits for an answer but soon sighs, realizing the man didn't plan to speak any time soon.

"Right... Well things will feel weird for a few days... But it's for the best."

As Jack speaks those words, Mark can't stop a growl as it rises slowly from his chest.

"For the best? Tell me how this is best?"

The red haired man growls, venom lacing his voice. Jack looks torn, a part of him happy Mark had at least spoken, but the other part saddened as his harsh tone.

"This way we can be together... I love you Mark... And I thought you loved me."

The Irish man responds, his voice growing softer with each word, hurt shining in his ocean blue eyes. Mark looks at him, honestly feeling bad about speaking with such cruelty, though he hides that with cold anger.

"I did... Now i'm not so sure."

The red haired man snarls coldly, his voice containing nothing but fury. Jack reels back at his tone slightly, blue eyes brimming with tears that threatened to fall down his pale face, though he forced them back, trying and failing to keep his face a mask void of emotion.

"I brought you some food."

Jack changes the subject quickly, gesturing down to the sickening, yet strangely appetizing, pile of fresh meat. Mark's eyes travel down as well, and he silently cusses himself when his tongue grazes over his lips hungrily.

Jack reaches over, unlocking the cell with a small key and opening the door gently, he pushes the tray across the floor, closing the door almost instantly, as though he worried Mark would bolt at the slightest chance. Which was a thought that popped into the red haired man's head, but he wouldn't be able to even if he wanted.

Mark's eyes travel to the food hungrily, his pupils growing gently before he forces his brown eyes away, trying desperately to ignore the enticing aroma that rose up from it. Though all his urges told him to eat it, he wouldn't, he couldn't.

"Don't worry. It's just deer."

Jack explains, already knowing part of the worries that plagued the red haired man. Mark looks up for a second, before once again moving his gaze, instead focusing on the sounds around him.

The Irish man sighs after a few minutes of silence, turning to walk to the door once again, stopping at the entrance and turning his head, gentle blue eyes studying the red haired man. The messy way his hair fell over his sweat coated forehead, the way his brown eyes hungrily tried to sneak glances at the food.

"This is for the best. You'll see."

He states before walking out of the door, leaving Mark in the silence with his thoughts, and the delicious smell floating through the small space.

The red haired man's chocolate brown eyes drift over to the plate once more. His urges slowly taking over any humanity that he had. He feels his teeth sharpen in his mouth, a feeling that was so strange, yet felt so right. The feeling of the sharp fangs pressing against the inside of his lips, the feeling of his lip curling back letting those razor sharp teeth free.

His brown eyes move once again as he slowly stands, staring down at the plate, his eyes slowly stalking over the meal, that slowly became more and more appetizing the more it sat there, teasing him, calling to him.

The last bit of his humanity shrinks away for this moment, as his newfound urges take over.