He was already downstairs, having gotten bored of his room, and was sitting at the bar like he had not left. He was sipping a water now, having run out of alcohol a couple hours earlier, and was just enjoying the quiet. He had meditated at midnight, when his blood was strongest, pulling every ounce of power he could from it. Normally he didn't bother, only enough to replace what he had lost, but now he needed them to survive, and to do that he needed more.<br/><br/>He gave a wave with his tail as the group came tromping down, before snorting into his water, thinking that if his blood got any more demonic, he might get 'lucky' and turn into a half fiend. That would be just his luck.