Mitchell nods, looking up to watch Hasibe as she leaves (not...completely like that, hush) and avoid the spectacle of the feeding vampires. After a moment, he turns back to face Deacon and his grin.

"Yeah. When we drink blood, it needs to be straight from the source or else fresh as possible."

Well, this is a new level of social navigation. At least in Bristol he could say he was abstaining and the other vampires would laugh but do little else, due the bloody reputation he had carved for himself some forty years prior. Here, on the other hand...

Here, things were different. He still wasn't sure what to make of that. He wasn't sure who to be.