Risotto never dwindles on any particular interest for long as he speaks in whispers to the vampire so near. 

He asks about things that are quick to be answered. He asks about things other vampires are too savage to answer coherently. He asks about things he otherwise wouldn't care to know the answer to.

How long have you lived in the manor? Of what importance do the other ghouls mean to you? How old are you? Those things and of the sort, basic chatting. (Y/n), despite Risottos endless questions, would only ever answer few.

"Do you crave any particular type of human?" Risotto would ask, and (Y/n) would be quiet. "What might you mean by that?" He'd later ask. 

"I mean is there a type you go for? Some have patterns on who they prey and others eat whatever's in sight."

(Y/n) would laugh lowly. "My meals are few and far between, as I've been taught to savor the human body like a delicacy. I only eat once a year, so I only indulge myself in whatever leftovers Melone happens to bring back from his hunts."

"So, you don't seek out anyone in particular?"

"No. The others constantly eat, I only allow myself what they spare to hold me over."

"But are you ever satisfied?"

"Only when I get a good grade human, but that comes with preference, a luxury I cannot afford."

Ironic, Risotto thinks, that a man, or vampire rather, such as him is too poor to prefer something when he is entirely too rich to afford everything else. The mansion itself, beds the size of lakes, several layers to a library ever changing.

Risotto eases into his position on the bed, cross-legged, his attempt to get across that he has no intention of leaving soon. Though, the jagged snoring of the hound by his side does make him wary.

"Worry not about him," (Y/n) said, catching his stare. "He's well aware you're in here, but he won't even open an eye to look at you, I'm sure. Formaggio wore him out enough that he'll be like that for hours."

"Of course," Risottos hand melts with the candle as the wax seals his grip shut on it. He pretends it isn't a bother, but ever perceptive, (Y/n) takes his hand into his, and removes the light.

The nails of a wicked evil pick away at the dried wax gently, and if Risotto truly focused on the action, he could feel a slight tremor in their movements. In the same way one might hold a small life in fear of hurting it, the vampire only allowed himself feather-light touches should he let their skin make contact.

Even a single wrong move could be grave, his hesitancy spoke louder than any word he could've said. For a while, Risotto troubled himself wondering why he would even bother to be gentle at all, since he's meant to be a meal anyhow.

Whatever the matter, he still waited patiently, though with a nervousness of his own, as the red second skin was pulled from his body and cast aside into the dark. 

(Y/n) moved to set the candle aside to his desk, or nightstand, or whatever it might've been that he intended to set it upon, but never allowed himself to become too comfortable with the idea that Risotto couldn't see him.

Just as the candle neared his face, it suddenly sunk down to a space much lower, the sudden realization that a mistake had almost been made, made the silence they sat in all the more quiet.

"Almost caught you." Risotto said, perhaps on accident.

"Yes, you did, didn't you? Almost, though, not quite." The vampire sighed as the candle resigned itself to a wooden table top behind him. "Just when I thought we were getting along fine..."

"What is it you mean?"

"I mean, I thought our conversation was pleasant. Am I such a bore that you still focus yourself on such a trivial want?"

"No, not at all. I'm unsure if you're aware, but humans need faces, something to recognize at least, to connect to something. I'm not sure I worded that right..."

"No, I understood it well enough." A weight seemed to shift closer to Risotto on the bed, the space where he sat beginning to dip further as something large and heavy neared. "Then allow me to grant you this much, if it's such a big deal."

Again, his rough and calloused hands were taken into much larger ones, softly as always, and were slowly guided upwards. Up and up they stretched, till Risotto had to strain himself to reach where the vampires face was. He guessed that was his face.

"Feel yourself around, turn me into your own little puzzle and piece me together in your head."

Risotto could feel a light fanning of breath graze his other hand as he moved to meet (Y/n)'s face.  It was a slow, fluid motion that he made when his fingers met his cheek, a silken touch as he ran their pads along every curve and edge.

Every sharp and soft feature came to fruition, but at the same time, left themselves in the dark. The angle of his nose, the bush of his brows, the soft curve of his lips. Risotto expected the wrinkled and disfigured face of a bat, not a human.

A lilt chuckle vibrated against his fingers as he thumbed the vampires lip, tracing it down to his chin in a delicate line that traced to his neck. From there, he felt his way back up, running his hand behind his head and through his hair, feeling his ears and temple like he was plotting a map, then fell back to his lips again. 

The slight of fangs poked out as they opened, and Risotto feared (Y/n) was finally taking his chance to bite him. The gentle murmur of words came to his hand instead. "You're quite enjoying this, aren't you?"

"If I cannot see you, then allow me some time to feel you. I'm still piecing you together, my puzzle."

"Than take all the time you need." He replied, and Risotto could feel his head turn to nuzzle his lips into his palm. "My face isn't the only place you may feel."

"I've seen everything else."

"If that's what you say." His proud voice deflated. "Offer still stands no matter the time."

Pale hands resumed their wandering, carefully taking the pieces and bits of their subject and putting them together. Risotto could vaguely picture what the vampire might look like after minutes past, but even still, it remained a blur, like a figure in the fog.

(Y/n) hummed, curious, as his movements came to a still, holding the sides of his face. Then finally, he relaxed his arms and pulled away, and while he didn't mean to jump to any conclusions, he could've sworn the vampire let out a whine at the action.

"Your face is more normal than I expected," He wasn't sure what to say, given he still didn't have a good idea of it. 

"See? I've long told you it holds no reason to weigh on your mind so heavily."

"But I still do not know what you look like?"

"Yes you do. We've spent the last ten minutes figuring that out, haven't we?"

"No, I'm afraid I only know what you feel like. What you look like is something entirely other."

"Then allow me to tell you that it will remain a mystery, forever and always."

"I wouldn't think it so."

"But it is." (Y/n) insisted. "Though you're always welcome to touch me again, whenever you'd like."

"Then, might I come tomorrow night as well?" Risotto glanced to the dead candle, where he at least thinks it is. "I promise to not bring a candle this time. I'll wait out this wall you've built, and gain your trust."

The void in which he sat moved around him in a blanket, and the weight sitting in front of him moved even closer than before. He could feel, even if just barely, the touch of something against his arm. It left the second he noticed it.

"That sounds nice. I'll see you here, tomorrow then."