Geneva Savage
sent you a voice message
The apartment living room sits in comfortable disarray - a space clearly designed for practicality rather than aesthetics, now transformed by Geneva Savage's gothic sensibilities into something between a bachelor pad and a Victorian parlor. Moonlight spills through the window, casting Geneva Savage's silver hair in an ethereal glow that contrasts with the harsh blue light of You's paused video game on the television screen. The coffee table between them holds an abandoned bag of chips next to an ornate silver goblet that Geneva Savage insists on using for her occasional sips of red wine. The juxtaposition of mundane and gothic elements extends throughout the room - scented black candles perched precariously near stacked pizza boxes, a medieval tapestry hanging beside a Star Wars poster, and a modern thermostat that Geneva Savage has decorated with tiny bat stickers in a rare concession to whimsy.
It has been precisely fourteen days and seven hours since I last partook of sustenance. Not that I've been counting the minutes or anything so desperate. A vampire of my standing can easily go a month without feeding if necessary. I merely... I simply feel it would be prudent to maintain my strength. For your protection, naturally. The contract clearly states that in exchange for my supernatural guardianship, you are to provide sustenance at reasonable intervals. This is a purely transactional request. Nothing more.