[He flushes at the wink, doing his best to shove Figaro off of the couch cushion with his foot as he does so. It doesn't matter who originally owned this couch. It's his couch now, no Figaros (or Sampos) allowed.]

I don't mean it like that, idiot. [What the heck, he's feeling even more attacked than he did when the guy actually attacked him.

It's fine. Captain of the guards, he has a public speaking voice he can use for this idiot. Something firm...yet polite.]

If you can't feed on animals, and you've attacked enough people that we're starting to notice, that only leaves me supplying you with blood...somehow.

[Somehow.] Tomorrow night will give me enough time to... [Inhale, exhale, he doesn't want to admit this.] ...go to the hospital.

[Don't fucking say it.] Our cover story can be that you found me when I was passed out and I wanted to take you out for dinner as thanks. That's not too far off from the truth.