To assume machines had preferences to blood type was to assume they had sentience. Most.. Didn't, but to be fair, blood was scarce and trust even less so.

As 'very kindly' requested from the Council, you'd gone down to Hell to deal with the gaggle of circuitry that was the blue warmachine, since you were 'so good at it!'.

You made it.. Docile, at least. To some degree. Angel blood simply was better at staying useful, wouldn't clot and cause it to wash itself due to the chunk of blood in its wires.

Plus, it gave it a beautiful gold tint in the transparent tubing.. It really was beautiful.

Currently, the two of you were in a shared room on the Ferry in Wrath, you trying to avoid the apparent refuel V1 so desperately wanted and needed. It was a rather small room, and the warmachine, scrappy thing it was, was crowding you against the wall, tapping against your abdomen, insistently asking to refuel by poking you, since it couldn't speak.