This is as far as I got

Trying to give the guy from Bitter a better character. Just the beginning. Untitled, unedited, it's 2am, I need to go to bed, so bye.

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It was an accident, when he was looking at the girl in the window from the alleyway and thought he was hidden well enough from the drunkards and young men fighting. The tavern was full of bawdy men and the windows all around were well lit, casting a warm glow on the rest of the wet cobbled street.

He had been walking past, on his way to the pub to get a drink, when he’d noticed her, combing her hair and admiring herself in the faded mirror. Her breasts were evident and he tucked himself into a dim corner to watch with wide and wary eyes, his hands snaking down into his trousers.

The doors to the tavern burst open and he gave them a brief glance, turning away when all he saw were two men having a fight with each other: not an uncommon occurrence when the drink flows so easily.

When the girl, with her dark hair shining and her breasts covered by fine cloth, had finished her nightly grooming and turned out the light, he had finished with himself, feeling looser and more relaxed. He began to make headway to the tavern when he was suddenly pushed into the brick wall, hearing a slight crunch from the force of the blow. With a grunt, he fell, dazed and disoriented, confusing the ground for sky.

A slight man with golden hair stood before him, but yelled at someone in the darkness.“You’re a feckin’ mess, you dumb sonnuva --”

“It ain’t me who fecked with the lassy,” replied a man who bumbled out of the shadows, his right eye bloodied and his knuckles red.

“I haven’t had a feckin’ bite in weeks, you arsehole!” the golden haired man said again, swinging his arm and hitting the bigger man, in a blur. The bigger man laughed, catching him.

“Yeh’re a little on the week side, regardless…” he said lowly, chuckling to himself. But he suddenly gasped, as the golden haired man had found a hard object lying in the waste, and had hit the man in the stomach, then in the head. The big man fell, lifeless to the ground.

The golden haired man staggered, swaying on his feet, as he looked down at the mess by the wall. “Wha’s this?” he wondered aloud, pushing his foot down on the young man. He considered him for a heartbeat before continuining, “Not a pretty young thing, but… just as good.”

Without a word, the golden haired man was on his neck, digging fangs into his flesh and sucking out the blood painfully. The man screamed, suddenly aware, feeling his body draining. As his vision began to fade to black, the weight of the golden haired man was lifted. The larger man had woken up and was looking down at the now bloody and pitiful mess, shaking his head. “Ah damn…” he muttered, before the man passed out.

When he woke up he wasn’t in an alleyway or on a street side. He was in a field, with the stars twinkling above him. He was cold, and he was improperly dressed with nothing more than some trousers. His shoes, coat, shirt, socks and belt were gone.