Connor has been called a hunter before, programmed for that very thing, the chase. The kill. When Connor grins at him, it's not the friendly, maybe awkwardly uncertain sort of smile he's offered up in the past. This one is full of confidence and sang-froid, the snarky smile of one who knows exactly what he wants and exactly how he's going to get it, without any doubts whatsoever.

He steps closer again to Kit, eyes still caught in the depths of his, a spider without mercy for its hapless prey and ready to strike.

"Oh, this?" He takes his hand away from his neck, staring at it as if it's nothing more than an afterthought. "Funny thing, that. One of the props in the Haunted House ride fell on me and damaged my neck. Peculiar, no?" The damage just so happens to very coincidentally look like a bite from someone with fangs. Connor chuckles darkly as he wipes the blue blood off on his jeans, his nostrils flaring with the scent, taking another step forward.

He breathes in deeply of Kit, closing his eyes to savor the smell of the life pulsing through him before he opens them again, looking sharply at the other man.

"What brings you here this evening? Enjoying the festivities?" He doesn't really care, his eyes drawn to Kit's neck and staying there. He's not quite close enough yet to reach out and grasp Kit's wrist to pull him in closer. Not yet. Just a few more steps...