"So demanding," Gabe commented, but he was smirking again as he clambered up to his knees and peered over the edge of the bench. He'd had a little tray all set up ready to-- ah-hah.
He hesitated a moment before tugging it off the bench and settling back onto the floor with it. Carefully. Because it paid to be that was with Muggle medicinal supplies: a narrow syringe, a few needles in sterile packages, a couple empty vials, a couple others full of potiony-looking things.
"I need your blood," Gabe declared, straight up. "Better taken the Muggle way, if you can bear it." That wasn't even a lie; blood could pick up even the faint trace of magic left by that minor a spell. Seriously, it was a fascinating area. Gabe could've spent so long in the Balkans, if they weren't all creepy as fuck there. "Trust me," he added, this time letting insinuation creep into his voice and smile, "it'll be so quick and you won't feel a thing, baby."