"Come now, hunter," Olrox said as he turned to mist and reformed further away. "Surely we do not have to fight over some..." He gestured at the nobleman he'd fed on, lying dead on the cobblestone. A trickle of blood traced down the man's pale neck. "Blue-blooded fop. You're a revolutionary, no? Think of it as my contribution to the cause."

Truthfully, he was intrigued by this hunter. Dedicated, but not unreasonable—he liked that. He'd encountered a few too many vampire hunters in his long life, and a lot of them were very single-minded in their belief that vampires were all evil and couldn't be reasoned with. Such a hunter had cost him dearly once. But this one seemed different. They had no reason to fight. Not yet.

"Why don't we have a chat, you and I? No magic. No pointy things. I'm not your enemy. Not right now, anyway." He offered a placid smile, his pearly fangs flashing in the dark of the alley.

Olrox had come to France with a plan, and that plan involved gathering as much information as he could. A vampire hunter in a vampire-riddled city would have tales to tell, he was sure, and those tales were of great interest to him.

"So?" he asked, wiping at the corner of his lips in a deliberate gesture, keeping his expression soft and his posture impeccable. "What do you say? I am partial to your cause, you know. I have a...particular distaste for those who seek to grow prosperous by means of thievery under the guise of 'divine birthrights' or whatever it is they excuse it as. We have much in common and can reach an agreement, I'm certain."