"You wouldn't think there was so much blood, would you?"
Harold looked at the bathtub full of the viscous red liquid and patted Lucy's arm. "I suppose not," he said. "How many people did it take?"
She shook her head. "I lost count," she said. "A lot. I almost wish we could give it back."
"Did you use an anti-coagulant? I'd hate for it all to sour and turn into cheese."
"Make-your own black pudding?"
"I'd rather not."
"Still, it feels criminal to raid a blood bank and take all this."
"It's all out of date. They couldn't use it in surgeries anyway. Trust me, you're doing them a favour by taking it. It'd just get thrown away and what's the use of that?"
"None at all." Lucy grinned and stood up, picking at a spot on her paramedic's uniform. "You know I could lose my job for this, out of date or not."
"It's not like you need a job, love. Besides, I thought you wanted to be an archaeologist? You wanted to be the next Indiana Jones when you were little."
Lucy grinned, looking at her father from the corner of her eye. "I just wanted the whip and the hat."
Harold looked at his watch. "All right. Time to put on your party frock. Your mother's relatives will be here shortly."
"What relatives are they again? Mummy's a vampire and outlived all her family decades ago."
"What sort of relatives would you expect? They're blood relatives."