"Where's the fun in that?" he said with a pout. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of cleaning up dead bodies. "No thanks. I'm not a scavenger. Vampires like their prey alive. It's no fun drinking from a dead person. It's like... eating raw chicken, I guess."
He followed, curious as to where she was taking him. "Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly..." he muttered as he came down the stairs, his nose picking up on the heavy scent of where she obviously brewed numerous things.
But over the top of all that was something else. Something... familiar. "Just what the hell have you been doing down here?" he asked before she explained the fact that she'd been making fake blood.
He gave her a very surprised look. "Takeaway food. Why Orla, I'm impressed." As he let his head lean over the cauldron, the scent of fresh blood assaulted his nostrils and he nearly swooned. There was so much of it, and he had to stop and momentarily control himself.
As he poured a ladleful into a glass, his hand was shaking. He didn't need to be asked twice to taste it, and just before he put it to his lips, he sniffed it, and took all of his control not to quaff down the entire glass. He was getting better at distinguishing bad blood, and after a few false starts, he wasn't about to be tricked into something.
It tasted fine on his tongue, but he only took the one sip. "Sometimes it takes a few minutes to settle," he said, his breathing getting heavier and his eyes dilating at the thought of more food.
"It's a little... full bodied," he finally managed to say. "You could probably dilute it just a little, and I sure as hell don't want to know what it would taste like cold."