There’s a sticky red sheen to his mouth and an ugly silver glint in his eyes, he balances up on the window ledge like something impossible – something impossible and terrifying and evil in the dark cold of the night as his heartbeat tries to choke his throat and his knees almost tremble out from underneath him.

“You’re dead,” he gasps, backing against the wall and scraping at the wood.

He receives only a tilt of that dark head in reply, a low thud as those fine boots hit the floor and dead Dick rises again, “a word of advice, Jamesie: never try to hang a creature of the night.”

…A creature of the-?

His breath chokes in his lungs, as dead Dick rustles another step closer and arches a fine eyebrow – when the man (ghost) smiles he can see fangs, sharp and flashing and so vicious that his heartbeat almost chokes the air from him yet again, “a revenant, if you will.”

“I-“

“A zombie, if you don’t care much for the proper terminology.”

“I-“

“Or a vampire,” and that awful, evil smile grows wider – as those fangs grow longer and longer, lengthening to sharp points that are only shared by the most vicious of beasts, “if you want to know what you’ll be becoming.”

…And he opens his mouth, so very wide, to scream-

But it’s too late, as Dick steps forwards with fully silver eyes and digs those sharp fangs right into his heaving throat.