The ride from the hospital to the blood bank isn't really long, but longer than I think it should be. What if someone got caught up in traffic trying to get blood for a dying patient because the hospital already used all of that blood type for the day? Surely they'd die.
I'm kind of glad that I don't have to worry about trivial things like death. I never have to worry about finding a restroom, getting hungry, addictions. Heck, I've been smoking cigarettes since the War of 1812. I do crave the blood though, so I guess that in itself is an addiction. It's more necessary than cigarettes and alcxxol are to humans, but all in the same an addiction. I don't need it, it just keeps me strong.
But I arrive at the blood bank nonetheless and exit the vehicle with poise as I try to not slip on the ice. I go in through the back door because that's where I have to sign it, but another sight catches my eye. Maybe ten feet before me stands a person, or what I'm assuming is a vampire, drinking down the contents of a blood bag. I look around and no one else is there, and he doesn't even notice me.
I clear my throat. "Um, I'm here to pick up blood bags type O, positive and negative, and B negative for Boston Medical."
i use my hair to express myself