There was some sense to what the vampire was saying, like if Samandriel could just bring himself to play along properly he'd make it through this much easier. The Spartan was wrong, though in other ways. He couldn't just forget Mitchell, and he absolutely needed to know about this no matter how much Samandriel blamed himself for it and knew what was coming for him.
"My Master," he said, gasping sharply. He squeezed his eyes shut. Even now, there was still some small amount of fight left in him, but he knew he'd need it for the shameful walk home. So he gave in, because that was truly the only choice. The hand that wasn't wedged between him and this Spartan reached up as if to touch the vampire's face as his eyes opened again. Long fingers stopped just short, hovering in the air between them. "What would you have of me, Krypteia?" he asked softly, voice hoarse where it normally would have found some sweetness yet to give.