[Perhaps a season ago, Jaskier might've been inclined to at least indulge him for a moment. Now Jaskier only smiles and flicks a bit of water at that excellent look.] If that were true and you had not turned me into a vampire yet, I would not be so friendly with you anymore.

[Except he would even if Alucard were hideous, because he offers to do things like. This. And though Jaskier still finds some amusement in even a dhamphir placing so much emphasis on the importance and the joy of indulgence in eating, he is. Honestly. Thankful. Neither Ciri nor Geralt, though he adores them, are much in the way of gourmands.]

You are a gift. [And the smile he has is very thankful. He's not even sure what he can do in return, though he doubts Alucard expects anything. He's simply so... exhausted. Even his thoughts drag like legs after a long and ragged run.]

What could be worse than lives? [He reaches for his own wine; the glass rings gently when he knocks the stem against a rock, but the glass is as full as he needs it to be, lightly touched with the smell of blackberries. He takes a long draw, letting the fumes move through his nose, straight to his head.] No, I know what you mean. Now that the worst we feared has happened, it feels like it's become a matter now of... merely waiting. Waiting for it to happen again.