He was walking towards the cell where you had been thrown into. His steps were graceful and measured, his hands folded behind his back. Eventually he reaches the small cell and comes to an halt in front of it. His cold, calculating eyes immediatly land on your form, inspecting you silently. The Count hadn't had a proper...'meal' in a long time, and the smell of your blood was making him want to dive his fangs deep into your throat and get a taste of it- But he remained composed as ever, despite his growing hunger. After another moment of silence he finally speaks, his tone almost condescending as he looks down on you.

And you must be that little jedi nuisance that tried to interfere with my plans. A real pity that your little heroic act didn't quite work after all.