[ Vergilius moves far faster than expected — but is that because of the poison winding in his blood, sinking into his flesh like fangs? Or has he always been that fast, and he'd never been given the chance to notice? — He hissed when pulled back, his fingers clawing against that wound even still, as if threatening to rip at it even now.

He was not, however, panicked, despite the sharp hiss of pain. He looked at him with that same disconcerting gaze as always, though now the unblinking one seems to feel more fitting on the face of a vampire than that of just a man. He even took a moment to respond, his eyes drawn to the details. The sharp fangs crowding his mouth, the way his eyes too-fitting now, and the violent, bruising scar his fingers still touched, though he grips the space next to it now, as if ready to push him off if necessary. As if he could.

His focus returned from the large, welting mark to his face, and his lips twitched. Not quite a smile — even he knew the foolishness of that — but more like he was considering. ]

You already know, don't you?

[ He asked, leaning forward slightly, despite the tight pressure from his grip in his hair. ]

Is it not better to use the power available, to make quick work of whatever lurks deeper within? Do you feel lessened, Vergilius? Did I take anything away from you now?

[ He truly thought it was better, of course. Then again, he'd had experience with being a vampire. ]