Wine it is.

[Alucard opens a cabinet and starts to take out spice containers - clove, cinnamon, nutmeg - and putter. A sloshing sound of wine going into the pot, the rasp of nutmeg being run over the grater. He could wave a hand and it would be done, but that's hardly rewarding.

He speaks as he works, hands in need of a task in discussing this.]

I keep hearing talk of those born in the city going missing, but leadership is slow to act. Nothing has been official or confirmed.