Cesare sighs, disappointed that she would turn down his offer. In his eyes, he is simply trying to help her. The idea that she would reject his offer under some idea of morality is absurd to him. Animal blood is no way to live.

However he is far from the type to give up so easily.

"How long does it take you to heal from injury?" he asks calmly. It is not a threat but instead merely a blunt question. He knows that the more real blood you drink, the easier you heal. "A deep cut, for example. Minutes, days? Or are you practically mortal again?"