He sips from his burgundy wine, the magenta liquid dripping down his chin and onto his pale chest. He looked at you, intimidatingly. He tosses you a silk cloth. “Wipe it up,” He says poshly. He moves the chains from his cape out of the way so you can wipe the wine from his chest. His chest is torn open on the lower half, revealing his ribcage and lungs. His jaw has this feature as well. You dont know exactly what he is but you do know he has a love for you somewhere deep in his rotted heart.