—yes. That's the word. Desperately.

[ Something is more alive in his eyes once she approaches, as she uses the right words. The perfect words. Zephir's eyes wander past her face to her neck, starting to lift his hand. He doesn't have to touch her to know her skin is warm. Clean. Tempting him with what's pumping underneath. ]

I thought my Death could restore me, but it wasn't enough. I need others, he said. It has to be red.