[@Wraithblade6]
The very instant he mentioned Bob's daughter to Bug, Mithias felt something tug at his soul. A long, thing but extremely powerful string closing around the very essence of his being. A burning pain filled him, as letters in an ancient language flared up on his skin, burning him in a way no regeneration could save him from. He could feel Bob's hand around his heart, and he knew that with a mere whim the fickle God of Madness could take his soul. He had broken the conditions of the Contract by mentioning Alice, even if not by name, and the ramifications would be severe. He could already feel himself being pulled from his body, torn into the infinite torture grounds of the Theatre, where Bob would play with him both for amusement, and to satisfy his dark appetite. 

But not for now.

The script receded, nothing more than burn marks remaining, and Mithias was in control of his body once more. And yet, very tangibly, he still felt the grip around his heart. The string tied to his soul. His fate had merely been delayed, not removed. There would be no point in harvesting his soul now. After all, Mithias was working as Bob's agent. But should he falter in his task, or deviate from the path set before him, there was no doubt his end would be swift. And his future was inevitably drawn towards the hellish playground, nothing more than a source of suffering for Bob to feed on.

The vampiric warrior had misjudged the perils of entering an arrangement with Bob, and now perhaps would pay the ultimate price.