"I'd like that," Lenore confirms, though she does wonder whether he means a meal of food or of blood. She doesn't question it, trusting that whatever he provides will be pleasing for her.

Leaning in, she presses a soft kiss to his cheek, sweet and chaste. As much as she desires him, she doesn't want to rush into anything. The prospect of being courted sounds lovely, and she wonders what it will entail. "Shall I start calling you Vlad now, instead of 'my lord'?" There's a slightly teasing note to the question, and she thinks that she perfectly well might still call him 'my lord' from time to time just to be playful.