His Fix

He was a jumpy looking young man, standing on the street, eyes glancing to and fro. A ragged older woman, thin as a rail, crossed the street to talk to the young man. After a quick conversation, the exchange was made. She got her fix for a rumpled 10-spot. She walked off briskly, eager to get to a place where she could use.

The young man hears a deep voice, coming from a darkened alleyway behind him.

"Hey, man. Come'ere. You got what I need?"

The young man spins, the voice catching him off guard. The alley the voice was coming from was as dark as the grave. He stares down it, unsure.

"Yeah, man. I got what you need. I got it all, dude. Check it out."

"Fuck yeah, man! Fuckin-A right! That's what I need...

The young man stares at the black maw of the alleyway, but the voice is quiet. He takes a few steps forward, into the dark.

"So uhhh... are you goin-"

Arnold reaches out with long arms, and twisted fingers and grabs hold of the young man, who manages a choked off gasp before Arnold's lifted the smaller man off his feet, bitten him, and carried him further back into the alleyway to feed in private.

He lets the young drug dealer live, sealing the wound after he's taken what he needs. He also goes through his pockets and relieves him of any cash.