[He stares at Figaro. He takes a slow sip of his coffee. Siiiiip. Gepard swallows it. He savors the taste. He considers the taste, because the taste of coffee is a better thing to consider than the situation. Despite the taste, it might look like Gepard had just swallowed something sour (a difficult truth) and is having trouble digesting it, because it's a fucking difficult truth he's being forced to consider.]

If it's easier. [He says this at last.] I could see about trading pints of my blood for pints from strangers. It would be... [What's a good word for it?] Difficult to explain, but I'm sure I can come up with an excuse - Fragmentum monsters, a new strategy. That way, you might have something...tolerable, to eat.

[Opposed to him, who's disgusting, terrible, horrible, better to starve than to eat him why does this bother him so much.]