There had, indeed, been wars between vampires and werewolves in the past and though he may not be proud of it, he'd been part of it. There had been a lot of lives killed by these hands of his, blood that can never be washed off in any form, and his guilt that still played in his nightmares whenever he'd sleep in the mornings. Though he don't normally kill humans like what he'd done a while ago, he could sense the willpower of the said human to kill the vampire if he left him alive. He can't also have him after the head of the one who'd saved him, this werewolf.

The vampire watched with wide eyes as the werewolf drank - or ate? - the bowl of soup in his wolf form. He was surprised. He hadn't really gotten used to seeing someone eat so messily. Not that he knew he should comment but he couldn't help but ask, "Do you want the whole pot?" The vampire let go of his hair and motioned to the pot with a rather amused smile playing on his lips. Honestly, seeing this rather animalistic side of the werewolf made him remember the one who'd saved him was a wolf and just part human. "We could cool the soup by putting the pot out on the snow."