Oris nodded, yes Samari ran into him twice, it seemed a little odd to him when it happened. Before he thought you ran into a person and when you got back up you had enough sense to know where they were. "I don't know, he drunk enough to make him sick. I woke up seeing him doubled over at the windowsill."
Samari sighed blissfully on the inside as he felt the blood coursing through his fangs. It wasn't human or elven blood, but hells it slaked his thirst well enough. He drank for 35-40 seconds before pulling his teeth out of the pale (now that he had a little blood he could see in color) wrist and licked the little puncture wounds to get any blood that leaked from them once he pulled away. Back when he was alive he read something about vampires being able to heal wounds with their spit, but either the person who wrote that was misinformed or he just wasn't that type of vampire. Then again, he also read that going out into the sunlight turns a vampire into a crispy critter, mortals didn't seem to know anything about vampires...
He brushed that thought away and stopped licking the wrist when he realized something else. What if Oris was helping him out again? He sighed, hoping that the man would be as clueless about this incident as he had about escorting him to this room. Samari sat up and looked at the owner of the wrist. And his eyes widened, his upper lip and eyebrow twitching in a rather amusing fashion.
Titanol. It was Titanol that gave him his wrist.
Samari suddenly felt quite awkward...