[He cringes at the sight of the crucifix, one of the few things that is so obscene to his very being. It sets him on edge, it hurts him, and Vlad is not one who enjoys being hurt. Those were for other people—the blind, the lame, the diseased. Humans.]

You are making a spectacle of yourself, dallying with your superstition and pathetic trinkets so openly. Destroyed your life, Mister Harker? No. I gave you a purpose.