This was not an enjoyable discussion in the slightest, now that they were solely talking about his feeding habits. Devin hated everything about this.

"Two pints, usually, unless I've been injured or expect to be," he said tersely. Strictly speaking, that was the bare minimum he'd calculated he could survive on, not what he needed, but Valdis didn't have to know that. "Although it seems there are enough healers in the city that severe injuries can be dealt with through other means."