David sneered and kept his stance against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. "Because you're pathetic attempts at getting comfortable on the floor will only worsen your condition, and if you don't mind I would rather like for you to get well sooner rather than later. I do need to feed and you being incapacitated doesn't do me any good."

Ziggy started coughing, and pulled a ratty handkerchief from his pocket so that he could cover his mouth. "Why don't you just sod off? There are hundreds of other people awake in London, ripe for the taking." He folded the handkerchief neatly and replaced it in his pocket before looking at the vampyre. "Why me?"

David smirked and adjusted his position on the wall. "Because frankly, my dear, you taste wonderful. I also rather prefer my meals to be intelligent and well read. Which judging by the countless books you have in this tiny living space, I would say you are, for lack of a better word, perfect." His tongue darted out of his mouth briefly to lick his upper lip, the faint taste of the man's blood still lingering there.

Ziggy made a gagging sound and brought the handkerchief back up to his mouth as his thoughts darted back to the thought of the man's fangs in his neck. "I'm an author, I have to be well read." He gave a shrug and then replaced the handkerchief back in his pocket when he was sure that he was not going to spew.