There was a lazy, unenergetic demeanor to how carried himself when he walked, a soft clicking of heeled boots as he took those slow, methodical steps down the graveled path. The man, for most definitely he appeared to be that, was an… unusual sight, his lean frame fitted with a long, knee-length, white zebra-striped fur coat over the attire of black leather, or some other slick material not unlike that of leather. Leather and fur? He always did have a peculiar sense of dress.

Long strands of unruly ink black hair fell over a deathly pale, but defined face, though his sharp features perhaps gave him a more feminine quality than he would have liked. His eyes were equally as cold, an unfathomable dark blue but the glint in them were stained... reflective of a viciously careless lifestyle, no purpose in what he did, and no intention of ever finding one either.

The hard crunch of ice underfoot was the only sound heard in the dead silence of the seeming empty park. What was he here for again? Ah yes. Hunting. Food. Prey. As it was always.

Catherine leaned against a tree, breathing heavily. Jerry Lee, her German Shepherd, sat loyally by her, waiting for them to continue on their way. Blood ran down her arm from a wound made by a bullet. She slid to the ground, sighing. She had a backpack on, and a wheeled suitcase on the ground as well. She was dressen in all black, as tended to be her fashion, a thin black scarf tied around her throat to hide the scars on her neck, one of two things to remind her of her old friend. The other thing was a silver cross, also hidden beneath the scarf for the moment.

She placed her hand over the bleeding bullet wound and sighed heavily. It hurt badly, but she had needed a break on her way back to where she was staying.

Of course, it had been the scent of flowing blood, which had made it all the more strong, that initially led him to where the woman was. He didn't skulk, but rather approached her, his steps coming to a complete stop as he stood directly in front, looking down at her. He made a grimace, when he noticed the dog accompanying her, indicative he was not fond of them, or any other living thing, for that matter.

Brye was painfully aware of the open wound, but he watched Catherine through veiled eyes, his iced gaze strictly fixed upon her face.

His voice was smooth baritone. "Are you in need of some assistance... perhaps?"

The dog growled slightly, but made no move forward. Cat looked up at the man who asked if she needed help, curious, but also frightened. Her knowledge of vampires made her slightly paranoid, especially because of the wound on her arm. She shook her head slowly, "No, I'll be fine once I get home." Her pain was audible in her voice, the wound hurt her greatly, but she tried not to show it.

He stood motionless, fine eyebrows raised, regarding her with a questioning expression upon his face. His blank gaze never so much as wavered from that of Catherine's.

"Are you ...stupid?" He said it lightly, it hadn't been meant to be condescending.

"Do you really think that I would leave you here? You look miserable. You should be heading for a hospital, don't you think?" His words seemed sympathetic, however, there was no warmth to them.

He stepped forward and bent down, crouching to meet her current sitting position, sweeping back the bothersome long fur coat as he did so. His choice of clothing was rather inconvenient, but he liked to dress handsomely, being somewhat of a narcissist.

"You're not going anywhere like that. Wouldn't you let me take a look, at least?"

The dog growled at him again and Cat glared at the dog, "Jerry. No." The dog stopped growling, but remained tense.

"I don't like the hospitals. Its not that bad anyway. See?" She took her blood covered hand off the wound to show him. She wasn't lying about it not being to bad, the bullet had just grazed her, but it was rather painful. She slid off the back pack and rest one hand on it, still nervous of the stranger.

Without thought, his own hand instantly flew from his side to seize Catherine's wrist, slender fingers wrapping tightly around it, his overly long nails. For a slight-looking man, his strength was surprising. Emerging from his brief disoriented state, he realized now the perilous situation he was in, and quickly loosened his grip, only to pull her arm closer to mock-examine the wound in his professional way.

"You're fine. But... I'm afraid I can't say that for myself..." He brought his lips to the bloodied gash, as if to kiss it.

"Just a taste, you see..." He murmured.

Her eyes were wide when he brought his lips to the gash. She was certain now that, as she had feared, the stranger must be a vampire. She looked over at the dog and muttered the latin word 'Lamia', which caused the dog to tense, staring at Brye with teeth bared in a silent snarl.

Her hand went to the scarf at her neck, remembering when Joseph had taken the time to tell her about several different types of vampires. She thought of the silver cross hidden in the folds of the scarf, and the scars on her neck hidden beneath it as well. She thought to herself, Hopefully one of my defences will work if he tries to hurt me...