[ Then let's catch it, and his eyes flick right back up to hers, suddenly way too hopeful, like a dog that's on the verge of obtaining an entire table's worth of scraps. Just push them over the edge... just let him go, do what he can do, and everything will work out... He'll feel amazing afterwards, he just knows it...

Or... I could give you a little of my blood, and Mark's eyes widen. The hopeful look is gone, replaced by an incredulous stare. Why would she offer that? That's fucked up, in a way that tearing an animal apart with his teeth alone somehow... isn't.

He needs to sit down, so he does, crouch unceremoniously dropping to the ground as he eyes Hella warily. ]

I'm not a vampire. [ It's a weak protest, but he isn't sure what he's protesting. Does he need that deer specifically? Or... as his eyes linger on Hella's bare skin a little too long...

He shakes his head. No, nope, no. Can't think like that. He absolutely cannot think like that. ]

I don't think I could get any hungrier. [ It's not a joke. He can only attribute the fact that he hasn't pounced on anything yet to sheer willpower. ] I... If you think it's worth trying... then at least we could catch a deer for the rest of you guys after.

[ He absolutely does not want to validate this behaviour from Hella, her acting like any pain she receives is no big deal. But at the same time...

He meets her eyes, his maybe a little too wild at the promise of sating this, finally. ]

Do you have a bowl or something?