[There's a hiss at the offered plague meat, disgusted and absolutely refusing the offer. Fae food? Bad. Plague flesh? Worst idea he's ever heard. The little bat tries to make itself so very small, tries to withdraw from the moths entirely.

This hunt is over. That does not fix the whole night. That does not fix the vampire's intense discomfort at the scene as it has played out before him, and he says that as something that understands and has seen the horrors of night things. This discomforts in a way that Alucard didn't know he could be rattled before, and he knows it's from the old magic and from the nature of departure from humanity that he hasn't witnessed. Vampires make sense. Night things make sense.

The logic here doesn't.]

You know about night things. So you must know that vampires are territorial things, especially with regards to their kin, yes? That they demand exacting permissions?

[It's the easiest, politest way to tell the fae that to keep saying the word husband is a bad choice.]