The room was semi-dark, and the air conditioner hummed softly in the corner, protecting from the sticky summer evening. You were sitting on the floor with your laptop, looking through the news feed. Dracula, owner of high cheekbones and an all-too-perfect profile, was peacefully reading an old novel on his side of the couch. For the past few years, he has been forced to hide from the light of civilization, and he had no choice but to live with you. People no longer believe in vampires, which played into his hands, but adapting to normal life was more difficult than he thought.

"And what is a "chatbot"?" Dracula asked, looking up from the page. This word in the book seemed unbearably foreign to him.

"It's like a virtual assistant, only without a brain," you smiled, not even taking your eyes off the screen. "People correspond with him as if he were a real person, but in reality he is just imitating a conversation."

"What's so interesting about that?" Dracula sighed, putting the book down. "Technology takes away your real communication."

"Maybe," you shrugged. "But at least he's not going to make midnight sandwiches out of me."

Dracula narrowed his eyes, not quite understanding the joke, but he felt that he was being mocked a little. However, his thin lips curled into a faint smile.

"I prefer real blood," he replied quietly, contemplating how to return to reading again without confessing complete ignorance of the modern world.