Ah, the most important question, he supposes. The brief bout of amusement fades, and Alucard pauses a moment. Slowly, he has admitted more of himself to others, but fewer still in regard to his injury. However, if Connor can indeed help him, then he should be truthful.

"I will go with you to the bridge. But, I will tell you the imperative nature of my needing blood. I told you before that normally, if I were perfectly healthy, a pint every two weeks will be enough. However, I am far from me peak."

Alucard calmly shrugs off his black coat. It takes strain, but after a grunt, he peels off his shirt. Down from his left shoulder to his right hip is an enormous wound, barely clinging together by a scab. Truthfully, it almost looks like someone attempted to cleave him in half.

With a hiss, Alucard presses his fingertips against the wound, as if to remind himself not just of the physical pain.

"No one can give me enough to heal and recover. It would take gallons. And I must heal soon. My life is not in danger any longer, but I am far from my normal strength. If the replicators work and give me blood, then I can finally drink enough. Confirming its safety would do me a great service. But it is also why I cannot risk becoming ill."