Having seen Hank slash wildly, albeit with good reflexes, in response to the rock Mithias had chucked into the grass, Mithias figured the man was probably out of ammo. Poor soul. 

"Why do you even ask?" A smooth and deadly voice on the wind. It seemed to be coming from...

The end of the vampire's whip flew out and lashed itself around Hank's neck from behind. Mithias pulled, causing Hank to stagger backward, but not hard enough to topple him off his feet. Mithias bound up the slack as he swiftly moved in and grabbed Hank, the leather cord tight around the human's neck. Easily, Mithias pulled off Hank's headgear, and let him face the fire with uncovered eyes. Mithias was behind him, holding him. The vampire was far stronger, even with that small cross around his neck, and Hank could only struggle, breathing so long as Mithias allowed it. 

Bloodthirst whispering in his hear, his eyes taking on a red glow, Mithias let the man speak. These were going to be his last words.