Haunted Wood King Dick of F*ck Mountain

It was working, he could tell. Quickly the boy shifted from defensive to something much more appealing. Though a struggling prey made their blood pump faster, a willing one was far sweeter. Lacking that acidic taste of stress, of adrenaline that overpowered the soft sweetness of the blood he so craved. The blood he needed to survive - being a vampire and all. Such a curse to carry. A burden really.

Valour? A fitting name for one such as yourself. Brave in the face of danger. it seemed like stroking the boy's ego is what worked best for him, and so Abaddon continued. Did you?! He expressed a perfectly faked shooked expression, wide-eyed, ears up, even a little excited tail sway - he knew it all, how to fake it just perfectly. I could never, they are all so rough. More so that he would not, there was no need - unlike them, he didn't have a soft ego that needed bolstering with a simple title in a pack. He knew what power he held, who he was, how dangerous he could be. 

I do. With the famine, I'd be easy prey for cannibals - here at least, I'm an honorary member. Safer here than out there. You see, I'm sick and weak, I have a hard time defending myself. I need medicine from time to time, and it's hard to come by. Finally finished, he sighed. Allowing his body to drop onto the ground in a sit while his eyes shyly turned to the fog around them. 

Maybe.. if he played the sympathy card?