'Room temperature is suggested.'
'That's sickening,' said Lacrimosa. 'I don't know how you can bear it!'
'Try it for your father, dear,' said the Countess. 'Quickly, before it congeals.'
'No, my dear. Wine stays runny.'
'Really? How very convenient.'
'Vlad?' said the Count, pouring a glass. The son watched nervously.
'Perhaps it would help if you think of it as grape blood,' said his father, as Vlad took the wine. 'And you, Lacci?'
She folded her arms resolutely. 'Huh!'
'I thought you'd like this sort of thing, dear,' said the Countess. 'It's the sort of thing your crowd does, isn't it?'
'I don't know what you're talking about!' said the girl.
'Oh, staying up until gone noon and wearing brightly coloured clothes, and giving yourselves funny names,' said the Countess.
'Like Gertrude,' sneered Vlad. 'And Pam. They think it's cool.'
Lacrimosa turned on him furiously, nails out. He caught her wrist, grinning.
'That's none of your business!'
'Lady Strigoiul said her daughter has taken to calling herself Wendy,' said the Countess. 'I can't imagine why she'd want to, when Hieroglyphica is such a nice name for a girl. And if I was her mother I'd see to it that she at least wore a bit of eyeliner-'
'Yes, but no one drinks wine,' said Lacrimosa. 'Only real weirdos who file their teeth blunt drink wine-'
'Maladora Krvoijac does,' said Vlad. 'Or "Freda", I should say-'
'No she doesn't!'
'What? She wears a silver corkscrew on a chain round her neck and sometimes there's even a cork on it!'
'That's just a fashion item! Oh, I know she says she's partial to a drop of port, but really it's just blood in the glass. Henry actually brought a bottle to a party and she fainted at the smell!'
'Henry?' said the Countess.
Lacrimosa looked down sulkily. 'Graven Gierachi,' she said.
'The one who grows his hair short and pretends he's an accountant,' said Vlad.
'I just hope someone's told his father, then,' said the Countess.
'Be quiet,' said the Count. 'This is all just cultural conditioning, you understand? Please! I've worked hard for this! All we want is a piece of the day. Is that too much to ask? And wine is just wine. There's nothing mystical about it. Now, take up your glasses. You too, Lacci. Please? For Daddy?'
'And when you tell "Cyril" and "Tim" they'll be so impressed,' said Vlad to Lacrimosa.
'Shut up!' she hissed. 'Father, it'll make me sick!'
'No, your body will adapt,' said the Count. 'I've tried it myself. A little watery, perhaps, somewhat sour, but quite palatable. Please?'
'Oh, well...'
'Good,' said the Count. 'Now, raise the glasses-'