[[Sure. Oh and is this modern times or more 18-19 hundreds?]]
Shiro leaned back in his chair, going back far enough for it to clack against the wall behind him. He used said wall to support him as he cleaned his pistol, being extra careful not to miss a single spot, which could end in death against a vampire.
He was in a local pub, sitting in one of the tables in the back. He'd just finished a mission the previous night so his usually white clothes had patches of blood stains on them. Like most of his uniforms, they would have to be tossed out later. Vampire blood never came out.
A sting of pain shout through his eye and he dropped his gun into his lap, pressing the back of his hand to it to try and calm the irritation. His had came back slightly bloody. He swore. The blood was already beginning to seep through the bandage and he had just wrapped it a few hours ago. He swore again, this time at the vampire. It was dead, but it had certainly left its mark on it's killer.
Normal User
