“In that case, I might have to actually write something. Alucard will die of shock.” He chuckles, mood lightening now that he knows he’ll be back to normal soon.
He waves a hand, I don't mind. "I was twenty-nine. Almost thirty. Actually, no one under nineteen or twenty can survive the change, so we're all adults when we turn."
"Shit," he says again, feeling old all over again. He shouldn't, but it isn't helped by, "The average wolf lives five to ten years after being turned. I'm ancient for lycanthropes. Now I feel old for a human, too."
He shrugs. "It's how things go. I'm glad to still be alive. I'm glad I graduated so I could keep living. But that doesn't make life more certain. I feel good about how I live my life."
"How is it at 23?" A wry smile, offering him a way to deflect. "I was an asshole at 23. Alcoholic, just starting out in my career and sure I already knew more than any senior partner."
"Oh I will. And when I'm bored, and when I can't sleep, and when I want an opinion on dinner, and when I have beer for you." A smirk. "You'll see plenty of me, Belmont."
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“Would it be rude to ask how old you turned?”
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"How old you just turned. Three days ago."
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A pause as he thinks about how old that feels. "Shit."
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"Uh. Well. I think probably....Somewhere between twenty-two and twenty-four."
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"You'd probably be dead in my world, too. Human or lycanthrope."
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Do you?
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"At 52, I should hope you like living."
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"I'm not alive anymore, so it's kind of a dead point? It's all right. Better than undeath, I'd imagine."
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"If there is, I'm sure you'll come find me."
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"Old man."