[ He lifts Alucard out of the car carefully. And- shit. There's always a quality to someone's weight, when they're hurting. It's hard to describe, maybe a little like holding something with hollow bones like a bird's, but all too easy to feel. ]

This is going to be awful, just so you know. There's two treatments I know of, one that I actually have the things for, and they're both fucking horrible.

[ He's heading for his room as he speaks. He's not brought the collection of Belmont things he's been amassing down to the office yet. Not when there's been no need for it, and when it all being made visible to visitors would be somewhat threatening. The room is a mess, if a highly organised one. Papers, jars, a selection of potted plants strategically placed around the window. Half-finished knitting projects next to knives and guns and pots of different writing implements and compasses that don't point north. And a perfectly made bed, which he proceeds to set Alucard down on. ]

Don't know how much you've heard about werewolf medicine, but it's the fucking worst. 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger' taken to the fucking extreme.

[ Which is to say- ]

I'm going to poison you.