She knew exactly where all of her major veins and arteries were, thank you, and he wasn't getting his teeth into any of them. She preferred them closed and covered by several layers of epidermis that were not punctured. She chose not to respond to the comment, or make any remark of him eating her patients. They'd had a fairly nice visit thus far and her food was decent from having been successful, why ruin it?
Instead, she glanced at him only when he burped. Her eyebrow raised, but she said nothing too disparaging. "Filling? Good," she said.
"I would hope I was better looking than McGonagall or Sprout." Orla wrinkled her nose at the thought. "My uncle to me I was too pretty for Ravenclaw. Didn't know how I ended up there instead of Slytherin. You Gryffindor lot, though, your looks were all over the place. You're better looking now, fangs and all, believe me."
She fell silent for a moment as she added the vial to the pot and stirred three times counter clockwise and then five in the other direction. The smell of blood became stronger and even Orla had to step away for a moment. Not because she craved it, but because, on the contrary, the strengthened smell did not do much for her constitution. "Well, the thinner worked," she said, her voice muffled behind the sleeve of her robe.