He could have easily devoured the flesh of others as the women he'd frenzied had. In those ritualistic moments it was euphoric, there was little that he didn't do in such an erratic state. He stared down at the soup, swirling the spoon around and then taking a few swallows.
He hadn't seen her in what seemed like months. "Beautiful, how are you?" His free hand peeling a strand of hair out of her face. "No one came to you did they?" There was worry settling in his voice. She did not usually partake in his drunken fits, but he would have hated to know that the darkness took anything from her.