Upon laying his black overcoat by the wall hanger, Wulfric couldn't shake the feeling that the people in the small restaurant of his motel were way too eerily boring. Even middle income, middle aged, barely sentient quasi-individuals such as these customarily had a bit more life in them. Now, Wulfric wasn't the paranoid type, as much as a two hundred year old vampire could avoid being paranoid; he just felt like the place was as good as any for murderers to hide (he WAS hiding there, after all). Well, only one way to find out...

One table in front of him, was a couple. Mid 20's, he wagered. Insofar as his mediocre lip reading could tell, the boyfriend just got a raise at work. Wulfric could feel mild excitement from his lady, washing over him like rose perfume. When the lady grabbed her glass of wine, the vampire ramped up her excitement abruptly, causing her to leap happily off her chair, spilling the contents of her drink onto her boyfriend. The man rose, and Wulfric could feel a mixture of mostly embarassment with a slight tang of anger. Focusing on the anger, he empowered it, and the man slapped his girlfriend over the face.

Now, everyone on the shop was more or less observing them, agitated. Wulfric pushed as hard as possible, blowing every little bit of tension between the people present to as large a proportion as his - admittedly drained, empathy with so many at a time was a real labour - Blur powers allowed. Then, in the ensuing chaos, he stopped Blur-ing and focused his Empathy singularily, looking for a specific mental signature within the room; this was sparsely known, but Wulfric learned from experience that in situations such as those, only killers could get excited. He found him shortly. Rising from his seat and narrowly avoiding a flying apple pie set course to his face, the vampire advanced slowly towards the source, who appeared to be a slightly overweight, bald man in his 40's. After a forceful bash from the handle of his umbrella, the man lay unconscious. Wulfric, as silently as he could, dragged the man out, lingering the suggestion that what he was doing wasn't important in the air (mental space) of the still messy motel diner.

"Who was it?" Wulfric finally asked the man, after he awoke, finding his legs and arms tied with thick rope.
"W-What do you..."
"Do not make me wait, pathetic human. WHO WAS IT?" he shouted, unsheathing the straight, narrow blade from his umbrella and stabbing the man in his abdomen. Blood started gushing out, as Wulfric entered the bald man's mind and tried to make him feel as much fear and as little pain (for now) as possible.
"I-I told her not to bother me after a-a long day's work. B-But she wouldn't listen. My daughter, Emily, y-you see, she wouldn't lis..."

Wulfric snapped. With a sharp cleave, he opened his victim's abdomen wide, revealing partly damaged intestines. Blood was steadily dripping out. Using a handkerchief and some rope, Wulfric improvised a gag and left the man there, against the wall behind his motel, writhing in agony that his vampiric hunger saw as the next best thing to a feast. Exhausted from all the Bluring he had to do for this particular catch, Wulfric ascended to the small motel room he rented, cleaned himself up, and collapsed in his bed, hoping that the killer he left suffering outside could take at least 2 hours to die, which would leave the vampire completely invigorated for the following day. In his last waking moments before drifting off to sleep, Wulfric whispered a simple prayer, as he often did: [i]"Your sorrows are over, your death avenged... sleep well, Emily..."[/i]