[There's a breathless pause, the laser focus of his gaze finding Peace's again. He plunders the depths of her four eyes, searching, and he sees laid bare her fiery will with a touch of melancholy hope; not dissimilar to the witch of the lake he met what feels like an eternity ago, in a hazy dream world where she alone shouldered the burdens of the dead.

If anyone can conquer a lust for blood, perhaps she will. But then, where do her sins lie? It isn't the first time he wondered such a dark thing about her, and each time, he draws up relatively minor transgressions beside his own. He concedes to her explanation with a shallow bow of his head.]

Something tells me that you will never stop seeing men as the sum of their flavors, [he says dryly.] It is written for us, we the predators. But may the blood bring you the relief you want. Lord above knows there's plenty to go around.