Is that concern I hear about my longevity? From Beelzebub himself? Be still my slowly beating heart.

[Reaching forward, he picks up the glass assigned as his, taking a sniff with it closer to his nose, picking up all those mixed scents with that flavor of Lucifer lingering over everything. Vlad had come to find that the stronger he could smell Lucifer, the more... interesting of an evening he generally had. It seemed the Devil had something in mind.]

Daylight always burns. It is a constant, and at least one thing I can rely on, mm? So, what does his Royal Wickedness wish to toast to?