Standing in his usual quiet way, that same smirk placed on his face widens as he listens to Romulus. His cold dead eyes trace the small vampire that hurtles towards them like some kind of vampiric projectile. He keeps to himself, saying nothing and keeping his hands behind his back despite the young vampires rude approach towards him and his friend. The dark, emotionless pale gaze passed his strange black remains locked on to Otto the entire time, a dead-eyed stare piercing towards him.

Jericho himself, remained calm and composed however, in his mind simply assessing these so called "fakelings", needless to say he was unimpressed. He grunts, almost as if bemused by their behaviour allowing the large spheric orb of blood circling around him to come to a halt, just above his right shoulder. Once the orb had stopped, in a peculiar way thin trickles of blood, fresh blood for that matter, composed of various kinds of creatures Jericho had drained would start to drip down his black robes from the runes etched over his enigmatic attire.

As per the norm, he allows Romulus to do the talking, whilst remaining completely still and silent aside from the strange animation of his various magical components. A sinister and heavy breathing being heard passed the mouth-guard of his macabre guise.