He gulps it down and there's a part of him, the part of him that was a demon longer than he got the chance to be human, that's disappointed it isn't blood. His tongue yearns for the smooth, copper taste of blood and all other liquids, no matter how pleasing they are to his mortal palate, will always pale in comparison. He imagines he'll get over that. Eventually. Hopefully.

It was different than that day he took back. On that day, he'd wanted it. He'd wanted to be human and in those short twenty-four hours, he embraced every single facet of it. Now? It was a burden, it slowed him down. He didn't ask for it, never planned on obtaining it once he signed away his right to the shanshu. It makes all the difference between what he's used to as a vampire and hasn't done for centuries as a human startlingly apparent.

"Thanks. For everything." He holds the empty bottle out to her, unsure of what to do with it. The only trash can he saw was in the bathroom and standing is an effort he doesn't want to make at the moment.