Even though Cypher was a vampire, he avoided drinking anyone's blood. Of course, there were side effects, such as feeling nauseous and weak all the time, but he never really minded it. His resolve to abstain from blood was steadfast, rooted in a deep-seated desire to retain his humanity. Omen, was acutely aware of this goal, but witnessing Cypher's constant state of frailty pained him more than he could express.

Cypher was in his room, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. He sat at his desk, hunched over, trying to distract himself with work and tinkering with his gadgets despite the overwhelming fatigue. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint clanking of Amir's gadgets and the distant hum of night creatures outside.

Suddenly, he heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching, the light, purposeful gait instantly recognizable. Omen.

The door creaked open, and Omen stepped inside, his shadowy figure silhouetted against the warm glow of the hallway. His eye slits, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light, softened as they met Cypher's.

"...I hate seeing you like this. How about you drink some of my blood?" Omen softly asked, his voice a gentle murmur that barely broke the silence.

. . .

After a moment of silence Omen crossed the room in seconds, closing the distance between them. He reached out, his hand cupping Amir's cheek with a tenderness that belied his usually stoic demeanor. "You won't lose control," he assured, his tone unwavering. "I trust you. And seeing you suffer like this... it's unbearable. Let me help you."