[As a wolf, Alucard manages to sleep a little. It isn't much. It isn't what he needs. But it is better than naught, and the bare minimum is a win these days.

Being stressed means breakfast is elaborate. French toast. Eggs, scrambled and paired with crisp bacon, fruit sliced into little shapes and placed artfully in delicate coupe glasses meant for champagne and other sparkling wines. A hot pot of coffee, a second hot pot of drinking chocolate with almond biscuits off to one side. It keeps Alucard's hands busy and his mind focused on something that isn't the current situation.

He has the drinking chocolate in hand when Jaskier shares the information, and every part of the dhampir seems to deflate.]

There's no pattern in these disappearances. That fact keeps feeling like essential information, but there's no context to make further sense of it in.