[Liem is not expecting the expression of wonder at his reluctant admission, nor the sudden, intent question that follows the clutch at his sleeve. His grip on the porcelain in his hands suddenly becomes not just tight, but unaccountably restless. He doesn't know what to do with this level of investment — at least, investment that doesn't come pre-weighted with shame and obligation.]

Of course not. Who would I insult with such a request?

[It slips out of him, aghast, before he can think better of it. What self-respecting person would be truly happy to let him sup on their veins just to indulge his unsavoury wants? There had been a couple of people since he was ripped from his world who had been willing — who had invited it, even — but in his worse moments, he doubts that either of them really had much self-respect to draw on.

The hint of bruised violet returns to his cheeks, but this time it's motivated entirely by shame. He forces himself to hold Set's gaze regardless, his expression stubborn.]

It does not matter. I do not need such indulgences to attend to my duties. Abadar does not require me to suffer for my devotion, but I would rather suffer than shame myself by living as a parasite on the blood of my peers.