The black-clad blood drinker clasped his hands casually behind his back, his head inclining downward ever so slightly. Did he feel anger at Jack's words, regret? It was impossible to tell. "Fate is strange. Had I killed my nascent brother, you wouldn't have blown up the weapons depot, and all those people wouldn't have died." Regret then, or so it seemed. "...but you would have." Jack looked up to see that Mithias' yellow eyes were already peering at him over his shoulder. How their glow shone like stars between the blackness of his sash and hat. Suddenly, the realization that he was alone with a monster became apparent. Had Jack made a fatal mistake? Mithias Varomere had fearlessly faced both Magnus and Gabriel, had killed countless vampires, probably more than humans, and had even, in essence, survived his own death. His courage and devotion were unparalleled, even among vampires. Only a fool would dare try to control him. 

"I tire of this war, Stine." He took his gaze off the human, allowing him to relax somewhat. "Until it is over, I find no cause for celebration." Mithias turned and beheld Jack for a moment: black lab coat, gray hair, wrinkles about his eyes. The human was aging. Even with modern technology, and his own brilliant devices, the man wasn't immortal. That is, unless he saved his brain in a computer somewhere. About that, Mithias had no doubt, but even so it would still have been a copy of the man himself, soulless, and likely incapable of adaptation. Jack had such difficulty hiding the smugness from his forced smile. An unseen smirk curled the edge of Mithias' lip behind his sash as he appreciated it. The vampire respected the man's self control, among other things. Humans could be so amazing. "You are truly unique among your race, Stine. Your creations are marvelous and awesome. Your mind is driven to a level of brilliance like no other I have ever seen. I admit, in this, you surpass me, and I applaud you. Even if no one in the world would join me, I will mourn your passing."