God, I need a drink (anyone)

Gabriel rummaged through the cupboards impatiently. Where was that saucepan? He swore under his breath as a mass of frying pans decided to tumble out, mentally cursing his thirst for putting him through this much trouble. Why did vampires even need them anyway? They were vampires weren't they? Just drink some blood and have done with it. He rearranged them carefully, hesitating slightly before pulling his hands away in case they decided to attack him again. No? Alright then. The vampire stood up, stretching to look in the cupboard above him. A clang and a pain to his head told him that clearly this was the hiding place of the elusive saucepans. Shooting a glare at it, he picked it up. A little dusty, but oh well. He took a teatowel and dusted the inside of it. No need for food hygeine when you are immortal, after all. Worst that can happen is a nasty stomach ache. Turning on the gas, he thought. How thirsty was he? Half a bag? Three quarters? After a moment's deliberation, he emptied the entire contents into the pan. He heated it to body temperature before removing it from the heat, and dipping a spoon in, drank it from the pan.

It wasn't quite the same without the thrill of the chase, without the body writhing beneath him, the flesh tensing under his fangs. But it fulfilled a physical necessity. And... he surveyed the contents intently... it wasn't bad blood either. He licked his lips.