Jake was happy the way it had ended. The mortal was alive, nobody screamed, and Lazarus was on the receiving end of his new fledge. Once Jake separated them, he quickly caught eye contact with the mortal. Doing funny memory stuff was easier when he could lock eyes. Jake didn't believe in souls, but guessed that whole window crap people slung had something to do with why controlling people was easier when you held their gaze. He implanted himself fucking the youth roughly, and while the boy had no hickey's, he'd feel as though he had one to explain the mix of pain of pleasure. The youth stumbled out into the night, looking weak, but not bad enough he couldn't make it home alone.
As Ben reflected on what might've been, he was able to summon the tinniest amount of empathy. He didn't care that Ben cared about what he'd done. It was something deeper than that. He cared that one day Ben would be alright killing. He cared that one day soon, Ben would be a little monster too. If he'd stayed with the moment, he might've gained some insight into himself. However, Jake thought too much reflection was a path to death. What was that one piece of advice Lazarus gave?
Just focus on the good times love.
However, since Ben was looking to see if Jake cared, it would look like he actually did. It was gone as soon as it came, but lingered in his answer. He was less sarcastic, less cruel. It was almost nice. "You didn't do anything this time," he grumbled. "I kept you from doing that. Your welcome." He pulled out another smoke and lit it. He was going through them quickly tonight. "Lesson of the day. It's easy to kill a bitch. It's harder to stop. Trust me, I know all about it."
He wondered what Lazarus would make of this momentary showing of warmth. He hadn't seen it's like since Jake was a mortal, and here he was giving it to Ben. It was strange. Jake's face turned back into the annoyed, eye rolling expression it normally held as he waited for Lazarus's reply to Ben.