From his peripheral, Nightcrawler watches the vampire sip his drink, blue lips curving over the rim of his glass. He doesn't need to guess what Ignacio has, since the man had already told him about being a vampire. The idea of blood in the cup makes his stomach roll, but it's not in a nauseating way? More like a feeling he can't explain; a question that goes unasked and thus, unanswered. What does it taste like?

"Well, ah— that's true. I didn't exactly look at it from that angle, so." He turns back to his cup, takes another drink to distract from his unease at the thought of more battles on the horizon.