[Alucard watches Sam carefully, interested not in the movement, but the organization of the kitchen. It is the sort of telling thing that no one thinks about, but is terribly reflective. Where pots are, how someone arranges their utensils, all of it speaks of how they cook and organize.

In Sam's cabinets, there are unknowns. Labels that Alucard can read but not understand what the food is. (Nutella? He has questions.) There's a spark of delight for that though. Sam's home is a world of improvements on what Alucard grew up with. A little reassurance that humanity gets better, even if is just by a little.]

Somhow, I suspect that even if I let you know that I made a second for myself that's in my home, you'd insist. I was also raised not to fight over matters of hospitality.

[That said, Alucard's eyes search around for salt. It isn't actually needed, but it is instinct in him. Welcoming a guest back home means bread and salt, no matter what. It's---

Oh.

Right there on the table, huh?]

Perhaps not that large a slice though. I can stand to have it cut in half. Which jams did you find?