Now to take care of the second issue. Sending a message. Abner went back to bat form and curled up against Jayne’s neck. He wasn’t to kill Jayne. So he’d have to bite lower.
And hopefully not get caught or squished by a rolling patient. The base of the neck, near the shoulder. That would do.
Carefully, the vampire extended his fangs to bite in.
It would have taken a fire alarm and some good shaking to pull Jayne out of his drug-induced haze. Sprinklers, too, probably.
As something small pinched painfully at his neck, however, Jayne did whimper a little and try to scoot away.
His hazy dreams of open doorways, shifting colors, and scattered puzzle pieces gave way to thoughts of needles. The pinpoint burn of a hypodermic needle, the crunch and crinkle of paper under him as he sat on yet another examining table, a faint dizziness as the blood pressure cuff tightened then slowly released around his arm, and pointedly avoiding the gaze of every doctor and nurse. Usually in dreams he didn’t look because they didn’t have faces. Now he cast his gaze down so that he wouldn’t see their expressions when they noticed his scars. Being shirtless was always the worst. He couldn’t forget that. The memory was enforced by too many sympathetic noises or comments, always looking down at the raw flesh and nubby scar tissue dots made by stitches, being helped because he couldn’t rub the ointment in properly, being taught to massage the sensitive skin so it wouldn’t tighten up and be painful later. And all the time those looks.
The pain, the lightheadedness, the helplessness. Jayne struggled to keep his head above it so it wouldn’t drown him as he slept. He gasped in his sleep and his fingers scrabbled at the sheets slowly like hands treading water.