[Alucard hesitates a moment. He feels he should decline; there's been plenty of animosity he's received from those who disapprove, even if Alucard can't help what he is and what he needs.

And what he needs, so desperately, to heal. His timetable is so short now, it feels.

They don't understand, he knows. It does not make it any less frustrating.]

As you say, then.

I would drink from your neck, if you allow me to. I would take no more than a pint at most. It should scab over shortly when I am done, and the bites are clean. I would not infect you with anything.

Should you prefer, I can bite a limb instead. [It's petty, but it doesn't taste as satisfying. Still, he would not argue whatever is offered to him.]