"You motherfuckers!" Dracula screamed, pushing the table with enough force that it flew across the space, shattering against the wall. "It doesn't make any sense, I don't even appear on film!"

"Wonders of the digital age Draccy," Peyton said, adjusting their grip on the iPhone. The vampire was out of the chair and was a blur of darkness as he fled the room and entered the bathroom. Soon the sound of an immortal, retching, swearing between heaves in what might have been Old Turkish, echoed down the narrow hallway.

"It was bad enough," Dracula gasped, collecting himself as best he could, "when you ground up pieces of the Host. I was stuck in the bathroom for a week."

"Honestly, we thought garlic would be the lesser of two evils," Bill said, brushing an auburn strand away from his right eye (the green one). He mirrored the gesture less than a second later with the left eye (the blue one).

"You were wrong," the vampire moaned. Peyton winced, but kept their phone aimed at the door of the bathroom. Another stream of Old Turkish profanities came followed by the distinct sounds of a vampire curling into a small ball on cool tile flooring. "I'll have heartburn for a month."