[ The Count clutches "his" chest in mock horror and gets...a fistful of cape fur. This ruff is really fluffy.

But at least he's not touching the stove Rei's neck any more. ] I could not blaspheme my fangs by soiling them with fair Lady Sylveon's blood! My feelings for her are deeper, purer, stormier...

[ The words trail off to be replaced by a look of anguish. Count Noivern spends most of this play wanting to be with Lady Sylveon. There's even a moment in which the two gaze into each other's eyes and forget the rest of the world.

That moment tends to drag on in rehearsals for some reason. ]