"Is that so?" Mithias responded about the book, concluding from the wrinkled nose that it didn't belong to Klaus. He tilted his head ever so slightly as he watched Klaus warm a blood bag for him. Truly, he had expected a wine or scotch, but blood... this was an offering. 

Blood was life. It was a sacrifice given by a single person, one member of the species Mithias had come to call his kindred. In a way, at least to Mithias, it was sacred. Blood was something required by a vampire, and if not given it would be taken in the heat of an uncontrollable thirst. Such a drink wasn't the same as any other. It was like giving sustenance, adding to one's health, a gift that truly promoted power survival and sanity. Mithias was touched. 

Lifting the mug in two hands and holding it before him, the black-clad warrior bowed deeply. "My gratitude, Klaus." Mithias knew that no matter where Klaus had gotten this blood, he could have used it himself, but instead had shared it with Mithias. 

He drank deeply from the mug. The vision of a hefty young man with dirty blonde hair and  military uniform lying on a table at some mall somewhere appeared in his mind. A good heart he had, having grown into adulthood with discipline and a loving family... his mother in particular, smiling at him. Only a flash, but the blood spoke to Mithias of the soul of the being it came from. 

Eyes closed and head bowed, the vampire hovered a moment over his mug. A red glow faintly fading from his eyes as he looked up again. How long would it be before Mira returned?