"Like a fine, aged wine, I'd imagine," he teased, moving closer to offer a cigarette. "Aged until it became vinegar in its own bottle. Though I doubt my mind's bitterness has any sway over my blood's taste. You look unsatisfied. The only reason I don't dare kill in this brothel is that it's so very close to home. Not only that, but I do like the company here, they're good women. A little mild for my tastes, but I don't leave wanting. If it's death you crave, man, say so, and we'll head further into the slums and find a good addict to break."