[ As he gravitates toward Iorveth, hands clasped innocently behind his back, he says, playfully, ] If you wanted to service me, you should have said so. [ Ha.

At the beginning of his freedom, being denied blood after having free access to it would have been intolerable. Now, it's still unpleasant, but more like an irritating itch that won't go away. He knows now that he'll have a next meal, and so he doesn't worry nearly as much about when it will be. The worse part of the past tenday was traveling so steadily that he had to forgo things like casual affection and sharing a bedroll, although he'll never admit such a thing. ]

I made do.

[ And he'd make do again if Iorveth decided to withhold his blood indefinitely or eternally. There's always some ne'er-do-well that no one would miss skulking around. ]

But I'll allow you to atone for your transgressions, beneficent magistrate that I am.

[ Again: ha. ]