Though Isaac didn’t exactly relax, it was easy to see that Aidan’s response had hit Isaac well—which was a relief. He was far from scared of the were and would have been appalled if he had accidentally insulted him. He leaned his head to one side. “Two hundred seventy-eightish by now? I lost some time earlier this year, so—I kind of lost track, but that’s a long story.” He shook his head at Isaac’s question, but it wasn’t insulted or unhappy at it. “What’s it like? It’s—complicated. I hated it for a long time, but there are times when I’ve been relieved that I could do the things I can.” He smiled at the rest. “I seems to vary by vampire type, but. Garlic—makes me look like what I am? Fangs and black eyes and it doesn’t go away unless—well, there are a few ways to make it go away. Feverfew or chamomile. Time, obviously.” He shrugged. “Religious symbols don’t do anything. I used to hold onto Josh’s Star of David while he turned—I actually knew a vampire priest for awhile. He stalked the hospital trying to turn the ill and suffering.”