Those people surely exist, somewhere across space and time in their dimension, most people have not met D and some even never heard of him. However, should there truly be so few, D has a noticeable face. Mayerling finds it unlikely they have evaded his grasp so completely. It could be worse. Mayerling could be dead and would be, here, if not for D.

"How long have you been here, D?" Mayerling asks. Enough time to have sorted out the basics of this place, enough time to have developed simpler means to avoid giving in to bloodlust. Perhaps not, however, to have avoided it altogether? Is he hunted, as he spoke of? Or has he already dispatched whatever other blood drinkers did the discovering?

He accepts the plasma pill and looks at it neutrally. He needs to heal, and Mayerling has no plans to drink his way there, whatever the risks with drinking blood. The desire for it still sings in his veins. He needs no other information to choose resistance. "What risks are those?" Mayerling asks. Surely D means to tell him, but he has manners enough to continue the conversation, no matter how strong and foolish the urge to leave the safety of the carriage to scour the beach. His longing for her outweighs any longing for blood, even after the time that has passed.