A deal is made and a transaction completed between two individuals. One stands six foot four, towering over the much shorter man dressed like he has a better home to go to. Some rich human dabbling in what he thinks is a thrill drug, experiencing the weird side effects of the venom that he's likely never been threatened with in a survivor situation. The man pays well, over the running street price that Nils intentionally overshot to get himself some more cash in hand, as it were. It may be his first time buying the drug, as he's incredibly nervous. His hands are shaky, his face flushed when he hands over the currency. In another lifetime, Nils wouldn't have been able to resist the animalistic urge to grab him by his head and forcibly turn out his neck to feed on him, likely not even bothering to finish him off before he fled the scene and leaving behind another "child", perpetuating the virus.
Even now, it's tempting. He can see the blood rushing to his face and his veins popping out some in his arms since he's obviously so nervous about it. More than anything, he can smell it. It's a thick, satisfying smell that even though he doesn't need much of it these days, he does crave it every so often. He has to feed to survive. Some might be able to stomach human food, but he can't. He's tried, and it's made him ill more times than not and he's chosen to only feed on human blood.
The man lingers there, looking over the little vial and observing it in the fading sunlight, swishing it around and chuckling softly to himself, jokingly posing the question of how diluted it is. The tone he takes is just condescending enough for Nils to have a reaction, scoffing and shoving his hands into his pocket. Despite his returned humanity, it's hard for him to control himself in these situations, where someone gets on his nerves. It's not a perfect system, whatever the mutation is doing to his body. If he gets worked up, his true nature is exposed. In his pockets, his fists are clenching. The man keeps making remarks about the purity. How he's paid less for better quality before, after he's popped the vial open and smelled it. Like he's some expert.
Forcing a laugh, the blond shrugs and spits at the ground, close to the man's nice shoes. "Haven't even tried it yet and already talkin' shit?" His tone is harsh, and he appears annoyed. This seems to confuse the man, who may as well have been talking to himself.
When he turns around, he can barely react before Nils shoves him forcefully into the brick wall behind them, his strength greatly overcoming that of the human man, who's gasping for breath with Nils' hand crushing into his windpipe. His eyes are different now-- not the pale blue that blended in with the human world but fully black. His fangs extend and he nearly breaks the man's neck as he digs in like a wild animal with a meaty bit of carcass. The man is screaming, but it's muffled when Nils shoves his hand in the man's mouth and he takes a few more painful bites into his neck, offering up more blood and getting him soaked in the process, but for him it's exactly what he wants.
A few moments pass by and when he's done, he has to take in a few deep breaths, wiping his mouth and picking out a chunk of skin from between his teeth, flicking it away at the corpse laying on the ground at his feet. Someone will find him, eventually. They're in the city, but only where the patrols are.. well, patrolled more during the nighttime hours. The sun is almost down, but not quite.
The little vial that'd been the catalyst for his trigger temper is nearby the dead man's body and he goes to pick it up, pocketing it for the next sale before rummaging through the man's pockets, finding a few more items he can make use of. While food doesn't do it for him, water doesn't seem to harm him at least and he has a bottle of it handy, using it just to clean off the bottom portion of his face and hands, zipping up his coat and tossing the bottle aside as he whistles, heading up a pretty worn flight of stairs and off into the distance, where the sun can't quite reach.