Bill reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin plastic label, ripped off a bottle. He held it out towards the Were so that the man could see the company logo. It was a little crinkled, from being in his pocket, but the words were still distinguishable. As were the little Japanese characters creatively woven into the design (a symbol of the Asian marketing campaign for synthetic human blood.) To be fair, the Japanese had created the most sustaining synthetic blood of all the others. Its taste was considerably more convincing of the real thing.
"Do you know of any place that sells this product?"
Bill wasn't quite on the verge of desperation, but there was a hunger in his eyes. An insisting want that said more than his words. This was a man who needed to eat something soon, or he would not be able to control his own actions.