Deepwood Weald feel loneliness as a predator

A smile crosses his face. It is stricken with emotion, a tell-tale longing that was mirrored from his eyes to the crooked smirk that stretched across his visage. He licks his teeth, briefly revealing the curve of his fangs, before catching any strands of saliva that threatened to drip from his mouth. To watch, He wants to lay down on his stomach, become comfortable, but it would obstruct his view. His body language is very relaxed, but still tense with desire as more blood splatters on the man's face. He let's out a slow shuddering breath. Is that too much to ask for?