Andrew will have the benefit of many more delicious meals. Max will make it a mission of his to see his Pet given the best. As if that small act could somehow assuage the guilt he feels knowing what the food really represents. What it will always represent.

He remembers the first meal he ate at his master's table. After a long and dark time captive in a dungeon, eating only for nutrition with no consideration given to flavor at all (a vampire cannot taste and cannot tell if something is good or not) Max was, at last, brought to his master's table.

There, before him, were all of his favorite dishes. Purchased from the various restaurants and bakeries he had whispered of in his delirium. All of the very best was there. And when he bit into the perfectly crisp and fluffy crust of an apricot macaron, he fell to pieces and sobbed until he could hardly taste a thing past the salt of his tears and the snot leaking from his nose.

He'd broken over one bite of dessert.

Max forces himself to take a bite of his sandwich. His stomach twists in knots while he chews. So, he sets it down and focusses on talking instead.

"I want to know it all. But...start at the beginning. Where do you come from?"