(They really have. Judgement is completely out the window at this point. Will is looking at Roman now more for the fact of looking to see if there's any visible changes in the boy now that he's fed.)

Yeah? I'm glad to hear that.

(The funny thing is that Will actually means it. Maybe it should unsettle him that his blood is apparently great tasting but it just doesn't.

His expression softens considerably and he nods.)

Of course, Roman. If you ever need something like that again in the future, let me know, okay? It didn't hurt or anything.

(Not beyond a mild discomfort anyway. He saw it as just another kind of blood transfusion. It felt like the same. And what was the difference anyway between him giving blood to someone who lost some and giving blood to someone who needed it for substance?

It definitely could be true. Demigods weren't immortal but they were far more durable than their human half. He looks down at his arm and lifts up the cloth. It was a clean cut and since they acted so quick, it was already clotting well.)

Yeah. You made a really precise cut so it should be even faster.

(He rubs out a bit of the blood before slicking on some of his paste. Normally he wouldn't bother with it but out in a monster-infested forest, he didn't want to take any risks. He sings a quiet, short hymn to his father during the process of it all, working in the paste, and then he wraps up the but with another clean bandage he rips off his own shirt.)

There. That's better. See? Told you it'd be all right.