"And yet you are compelled to mimic life," Penelope had said, looking him square in the eyes. "By taking that pulse of life into yourself."
"By drinking blood," he corrected her. "Why are you so indirect?"
"It is not about being indirect. It is about looking deeper. Drinking blood and taking the pulse of life into yourself are not the same things. One is a practical truth while the other is a philosophical one," the intensity in her words had grown, and one of her hands came up to emphasize her point.
"You are helpful," he finally said after gazing at her blankly for several moments. His lips turned up in amusement.
