Xerchen's body pulsed as though every beat of his heart was ripping through the whole thing, the wound through his chest twitching strangely around the blood spike Grey had buried inside him.
Grey didn't actually know if this was going to save the bastard, and if he had been sure the blood could help his own condition, he would have taken every last drop for himself without even pretending otherwise.
The problem was that Grey's body wasn't the real issue anymore, his Neural Frame was, and blood wasn't going to stitch together the microscopic fractures running through that mess. He wasn't actually sure how he'd heal that in the first place.
Xerchen was different. He wasn't a Vampire, but he was a gnome, and if Grey had learned anything from dealing with the Mechanical Jaw Lineage, it was that gnomes were freakishly good at digesting things and turning them into their own strength.
