[sylvanSpider]

Liam waited patiently while she repeated his name in an attempt to engrave it in her memory. The struggle to remember the most minuscule of details was one that he associated with his human life, some fifty years prior. Since becoming a vampire, he'd had a need to remember the names of places he'd been, names of hunters (or, Hellsings, as the Church liked to call them), the faces of said hunters, the names of bars and pubs that made for easy and violence free feeding due to an increased likelihood of finding one passed out in the alley. It'd started out with a notebook he used to carry, but soon it got full, and he'd found that he retained the information regardless.

Still, he wished he could go back to that time of blissful ignorance.

Liam's discussion of his parents was not intended to speak lowly of them, merely to inform her that they came from a lower class – their names lost to the annals of time. When their names stopped appearing on the census, that was the end of them. Their names would be remembered by none save himself. He waved off her repetition of the word “mishap,” not wanting to recall those unfortunate events that were led to by none other than his own starvation. His actions led to that innocent woman's death, yes, but it was the Church's imposed starvation that drove him to madness. He knew not what he did as he did it. By the time he came to his senses, she was gone.

The butler could only smile as the questions tumbled out of his master's mouth and again, he waited for her to finish so he could answer them one at a time, “They are, and I am one. When not under the light of the sun, yes. There are not many anymore, and this is probably for the better. The amount of blood I require is based on two things: the passage of time and how much energy I use up – the more energy I consume, the more blood I must in turn consume. I was turned. He wants me dead, as do his employers – though, I've heard mention of one Hellsing that takes my kind alive for experimental purposes. He hunts any supernatural being, though many of them will have their specialties. Vampire hunters are hellsings. I do not know for certain. In the entire time I've been a vampire, I've ran into three.” He answered each question coolly, calmly, and with as much ease as he could muster to try to convince his young master that she should remain his master and be willing to part with his price.

He blinked, not expecting her to give so freely, without ever signing or even glancing at the contract he bore in his inner-breast pocket. He reached for her hand, taking it in his own and glanced at her uncertain. “So you agree to the price, then? There are...methods...that will ensure that a mark will not be left on your skin. That is, if you are not afraid of needles. You're, ehm, certain about my feeding in this...method?”