There was only so many things that could be done at this point. It was accept it all, with all that he had, or neglect it. To continue on in the same means that had been. But these changes, they did more than the physical. There were more than lifestyle changes. His own emotions were effected more and more. Striking more towards anger and snapping in a means that led him to biting it all back down. To fighting himself with everything he had, but not everything was willing. He wasn't being controlled by anyone but himself, or even that voice that came when he was hungriest. A voice that he could speak to, that shouldn't have been his own. A voice that was not to be trusted, to listen to. But none of that was going on right now. It was just him, and that usual nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The deep pitted thirst that laid in his own throat. Staring ahead, a pen in between his fingers tapping against the writing pad laid in his lap. A foot lie there against his knee, holding it all up at an angle.

Blood red eyes staring off into the distance, the blank wall through the dark. He could see just fine, even for as much of a monster he felt he looked at times. The tapping moved along its own consistent beat. A metronome in its own fashion. Jaw set, stiff as ever as lips pursed. A stare off with the wall. Just what he needed. No, but that was how it might as well have appeared.

He didn't like that. Being told his eyes suited him. It bothered him, but laughed. It had been coming more regularly, more at ease. Had he been becoming so used to all of this? Would that even matter if he were? Would that make him any less a threat to people out there? Would it stop that lack of desire to actually get out, to do something more than be alone all of the time? To do more than make subtle attempts at talking to random people and then stop altogether due to failure? To be tired of everyone that bothered so much with the idea that he was protecting them? Just because the box appeared nice on the outside, maybe it wasn't what it appeared. Maybe, what he really wanted was to protect himself. To keep his own conscience clear after everything that had happened to him. Everything that no one was allowed to know. About all he had done to help reek havoc on the city. About the deaths he had caused, regardless of remembering or knowing, or whatever reasoning was on paper.

Standing up, he easily tossed the pad of paper and pen on the table beside him and moved away from it. Pacing across the floor, this was all too nice. He knew why he had set it up. Why he had made sure to use his abilities to get this place here. Everyone was safer. He could come and go as he pleased. But none of this was going to save him from anything. None of this was going to save anyone from him.

Michael wasn't a fighter. That didn't mean he didn't know how. It just wasn't what he had ever really come to as far as a need. But with his own abilities, it wasn't as if he couldn't really make this work. To push himself and see more than what he had learned beyond a microscope. Halting in his steps, he crouched slightly. Knees bent, giving him extra bounce, cushion in those joints. He had no idea what he was doing really, no, but this was going to be his own little experiment. Every piece of furniture could be lifted, even on top of each other. Gliding could be done right off the balcony. He could track the scent of blood, but the level of understanding the scents and what sort of sickness, that was a little more on the difficult side. But there was a difference. It was in the smell, even the taste, if he went that far. As if to tell him what was good and what wasn't for him.

Somersaults weren't really his thing, but in that same line that he had been pacing, there was a modest rush in his step as he did one. First two handed, then back using one. Hollow bones,and now this. Agility hadn't been paid much mind to, wasn't realized quite as easily. But this made for sure. This proved him right. Forward tuck and roll left him laughing. Lying on the ground, looking to do bigger, be better. Distraction helped, it did its job in fending off other thoughts. As far as he could tell, to even remember from foreign memories, he was the only one of his kind. Some median between both worlds. Not completely vampire, not completely human. And to crave, to need to feed. Being lonely wasn't so bad. Worse, he couldn't recall the last time he felt this good. Was it these abilities, or something else now?

His own laughter was borderline mad. Maybe that was it, since it even caused him to fall flat, ruining his attempt at figuring out how to do a back flip. Okay, so these things weren't so easy to figure out. Acrobatics weren't part of the arsenal, but agility was. Maybe there was something on YouTube for that. Until then, there was nothing to heal from here, other than some soreness. There was a freedom here. No one breathing down his neck, no one trying to tell him how to do things or how to live his life. Or what they could or would do for him. He was more him than he had been since this all began. Happier, away from it all. Still hungry, but his cheeks hurt. That was a new feeling all on its own. It was enough for his hands to reach up to his face and question that alone.