Dog Fights

Chapter 9; First Impressions

He sits down in his black padded chair, leaning forward and running his fingers over the silver lined collar around his neck before moving his hand back to the glowing mouse. "I found the site that you were reported on," he says, glancing over his shoulder.

Ezra pushes to his feet, taking a step forward to look at the screen. "That's it?" he asks, leaning over and putting his arms on the backrest of the chair.

"What?" Leon asks, scrolling down the black screen. It shows nothing but matching pictures and names, white text following the colloms. The white only displays one of three words- missing, spotted, or captured. "These people want to get to the point- lost fighters have a lot of money on them. See?"

Leon lifts his hand at the screen, pointing at the highest picture on the monitor. "The people with the highest rewards are on the top," he says, gesturing to the number beside Ezra's name.

"Fifty thousand dollars." Ezra breaths out the number, swallowing hard. "How does Orgon have that much money to just give away?"

"You were a champion," Leon says, clicking the name, "on a good night you got Orgon a few thousand dollars in one fight. Attendees pay a big fee to get in, then bet even more on who they think'll win. They get more money than what they put in, but the conductors get most of it. You weren't his only fighter either."

"I know," Ezra says quietly, "but I'm the most valuable person on that site?"

"I'm sorry, Ezra," Leon says, "other conductors and trackers try to put higher rewards every once in a while, but they don't have such a community respected name on their side."

"...Is that what I look like?" Ezra asks, trying to ignore the kill and win count that's listed by his picture. It's sketched and colored, picturing him in his old leather uniform.

Leon glances up, taking a moment before huffing and turning around to settle on his knees in his chair. Ezra stands up straight, words caught in his throat as Leon reaches up and puts a hand on either side of his face to hold his head straight.

"Well," Leon starts, feeling the temperature of his face shift, "I think you look a lot better now."

"You know," Ezra says quietly, afraid to speak too loud and disrupt the air between them, "those pictures are made to look as realistic as possible to help trackers, I don't- uh,"

Ezra curses to himself as he stutters, following the glasses with his eyes as they're removed from his face. "The pastels make you look a lot different," Leon says, every hot spot on his upper body shining in Ezra's vision, "and the glasses make your face shape look a little softer. They also dull the color of your eyes- I never realized how bright they really are."

Ezra stares, watching the human's face through the shadows. "Maybe-"

Ezra tenses as the door swings open, Leon jumping and drawing his hands back as a head peaks in the room. A man's face appears in the dark, immediately landing on Ezra.

"I thought I heard someone else in here," he says, glancing back to a blushing Leon warningly, "who's this?"

Leon slides out of his chair, standing a safe distance away from Ezra and subtly blocking the computer screens with his body. "Hi dad," Leon says quietly, reaching up to anxiously mess with the leather collar around his neck. "Uh- this is my friend, Ezra."

"Friend," the man says, testing Leon with the word as he steps out before pushing open the door. Leon reaches back quickly, finding the button to turn off his computer monitors.

"Dad," Leon warns shortly, Ezra practically feeling the heat rising to the younger's face, "don't start."

"Don't push it," he says, pointing a finger at his son. He steps in, eyeing Ezra from a few feet away. "So," he says, crossing his arms and raising his chin, "my son found himself a vampire? How'd you figure out about the UV light by the front door? Or did you just use his window?"

Ezra looks down to his chest, grabbing his glasses and pushing them back onto his face. Maybe dulling the brightness of his eyes is a good thing. "I'm not an animal, sir," he says flatly, tilting his head back up to look the man in the eye, "I used the front door."

Leon coughs nervously, seeing his father raise an eyebrow. "I can handle the quick tongue," he says, tapping his chin over his dark beard, "but the vampire part is new. How long since you've been turned?"

"Dad!" Leon exclaims, leaning forward in his place, "don't ask that!"

"Honestly, I don't remember," Ezra says, "I don't know that date or how many years have past, less than a decade for sure."

"That's good." The man nods. "At least you're smart then. I know some of the newbies like to pretend they're all cool and push their limits. You seem mature."

Ezra smiles, but not enough to show his fangs. "Thank you, sir," he says, "and I understand what you mean. Sadly those are the ones who bring a face to most vampires, though."

"Who is it, Josh?" a voice calls; Leon's mother.

"Leon's new friend, Ezra!" the man calls back, stepping out of the way as a woman leans in from the doorway, "he seems nice."

The woman studies Ezra up and down, the look in her eyes giving away the fact she knows something Ezra doesn't.

"That's him," she says, nodding her head, "I'm positive."

Leon looks over as his phone begins buzzing on his desk, picking it up as Ezra takes a step back. "What?" he asks, hiding his nervousness under his underlying warning tone.

"Excuse me?" Leon asks, the three looking over to see his phone pressed against his ear. "He's right here. Okay! Okay!"

Leon holds his phone out to Ezra, the vampire staring into his frightened eyes for a moment before taking the call.

"Hello?" Ezra asks quietly, feeling himself shrink under the knowing gaze of Leon's parents.

"EZRA!" Clover's voice rings, making the vampire flinch with the crackle of the speaker. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU ON TV?"