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S01 E02 / 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊
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To call Damon Salvatore despicable wasn't too big of a stretch.
Stefan knew it, Damon knew it and the whole of Mystics Falls would soon remember it too––
But, for the moment, he was just a friendly, neighbourhood smile with a penchant for ripping out throats.
"You must be Elena."
He'd studied the brunette in front of him. His head tilted to the side as he picked her face apart: familiar detail by familiar detail. Everything had been a breeze from the past, drenched in some sort of satirical irony. Her brow had folded and she'd paused.
"I'm Damon," He'd said, "Stefan's brother."
Damon had taken great delight in seeing her falter.
"He didn't tell me he had a brother..."
Yeah, there's a lot your new boy toy hasn't told you.
But Damon took that in his stride. He had a tendency to do that: tall, dark and with a smirk ripped straight off of a wanted poster, Damon Salvatore wasn't interested in letting anything stop him. Not gossip and certainly not a woman with the stolen face of a very near and dear ex-lover––
He'd bit the tip of his tongue and smiled.
"Well," He'd said, "Stefan's not the type to brag..."
Much like the comet, Damon knew that this town wouldn't know what had hit it. He'd work by night but would refuse to be subtle. Subtly was long gone for a guy like him. He was loud and unapologetic.
Besides, what was better about spilling blood than spilling it at the cost of the younger brother you despised so deeply?
(Answer: doing it with style.)
That's what led him to grinning, slyly, over at his brother as Stefan sighed through his teeth, shaking his head at the mention of everything. (Everything? Everything.) Damon had picked apart 145 years of unaddressed trauma, too, and laid it bare, just in front of Elena Gilbert's brown doe-eyes.
