He knew not how he could possibly approach draining in the area, or even if he wanted to try. The prospects behind the lot of it still rubbed him raw. Soon, the curtains would draw closed and the mass exodus to the parking lot would declare his chance for obtaining energy - for violating lives to please his new captain.
The question still weighed heavy in his mind. Pursuance of life-draining begged its own moral conundrum.
Faustite finally exited from the covetous alleyway shadows, where he met with the long, spidering chain-link fence that guarded the football fields. The back of the theater faced the area, where a single door gave access to the costuming area for the student actors. He paced the long fence while he still weighed his decision, his fingers thrumming gently on the thin wires, the links rattling gently in response. He hated the indecision, the pressing for action. But there remained no resolution for him here - no wise words on which to hang his own responsibilities. Finally Faustite drew to a stop, both hands clutched to the chain link, and he peered across the brightened fields as he worked through the night's mental conundrums.
grymoire
