"I'm not used to people being able to see me." He admits without much ado about it. "Otherwise, I'd probably wear clothes, like some of  the other Fae do."  He just spoke mildly, but in a  friendly manner.  He was perhaps making a wrongfully optimistic assumption that this one would not be mean like the others, and might also possibly help him escape. After all, he had duties elsewhere that he really should be getting to.<br/><br/>That thought would change, later on, when some semblance of being able to think returned to him. She'd actually have to hold him up a bit, because the moment she bit into him, he went very slack; from the pleasure, more than anything else. Even if he enjoyed it, their was a very real, visceral feeling that came with realizing that he was the prey, and surrounded by predators.<br/><br/>His blood was not only rich and intoxicating, even able to produce some amount of euphoria if she drank enough, but its magical nature also meant that he was very nourishing to her.  The amount of blood drained from a mortal that might qualify as a snack, was, from the Fae, more of a light meal.<br/><br/>Once she released him, he would shake his head a bit, his body already working to quickly and efficiently replace the lost blood. As frail and light as he may seem, even the weakest of the Fair Folk had an amazing constitution.<br/><br/>He rubs at his neck a bit, at the spot where she had bitten him, and lets out a low, whistling sound; much like a whippoorwill. Since she has dismissed him, and he is unaware of the scrolls contents, he just disappears, teleporting himself right back to the Queen's chamber.<br/><br/>Amidst the horror and carnage of the ruined room, he would start himself off in one corner, and just start systematically fixing things. Broken furniture is mended, through nothing less than pure magic; dust and fine particles are just zapped away to who-knows-where, things are straightened, things are polished to a high sheen with elbow grease... it'll take him some time, he might not even finish by the time the half-vampire realizes she needs him, but he will get as much done as he can.<br/><br/>If the Queen is there, she may note that even though his work would seem to require noise be made, he's dead silent. The most noise he makes is from the thudding of his heart, and the occasional Fae curse word as he gets exasperated with how much damage was done. He is also very meticulous, neat, orderly, and precise. In the end, her room might very well look better than it used to; with everything being exactly the way it was, in the exact position it was in.<br/><br/>How did he do that last bit? It's just how Brownie's are wired. Even the dullest of them was a genius when it came to imagining three dimensional objects, room layouts, and things of that nature.  Hell, he could survey a quarter of the Second Layer, and reasonably intuit the entirety of its layout, if given sufficient cause to.