If Eugene is expecting words from the vampire, then he's quite mistaken. A predator doesn't have reason or time for conversation, when his sole objective is to set his teeth against that warm fount of blood. Edward's movements, while not graceful, have a force behind them that transcends the everyday motions of the human form. Powerful, strange.

In a split second, Edward dives toward the other man, knocking him out of his chair and onto the floor in a noisy clatter. The way he pins down his prey is rough and ungainly, burrowing an elbow into Eugene's stomach, legs locked against the other's useless lower limbs. Edward presses his fingers against the crook of Eugene's neck, twisting it to the side to bare the flesh. Teeth hover inches away from a familiar artery, close enough that Eugene must feel Ed's breath and the slightest pinpricks of those tiny teeth.

"No," he growls, "No, No, No--"

Just as suddenly as he came down, he rips himself off of the man, staggering backwards. Edward's thoughts and senses collide in a sudden paroxysm that has him cradling his head and taking unnecessary, heavy breaths.

"No," he repeats once again, this time the word coming out as a broken sob.