Mujo snorted and looked at the offered wrist. He was hungry, and he would happily take his father's blood. "You're forgetting just who I am, aren't you Zero? Even if you let me feed now...I'll still be hungry...and as usual, I'll fill myself with their trash....I can't help it..." he told Zero lowly before he took hold of the offered wrist and leaned in, licking some of the blood at first before he sank his fangs in.
He would feed, but as the night went on, he would have to feed again, and again...and again. His young appetite kept him constantly feeding. His energy would fall after he did about three jobs and he'd have to feed again at the fourth. To Mujo, it was a natural problem that he would deal with. But to Zero, who often times scolded him for feeding off of the humans who were trash, they were vile and sickening.
As he fed, he couldn't help but close his eyes and take in a deep breath as he sighed in content. It was comforting to be allowed to feed from Zero. If he were to be honest and speak his feelings of endearment out loud to Zero, he would likely embarrass Zero. The thick crimson liquid was not only a source of nourishment and life for Mujo, but a means of comfort that he was still accepted and still alive. But more than that, Zero's blood was his best way to learn his father and bond with him.
He drank for what seemed like hours before his hunger was finally sedated. Drawing back, he licked his lips and opened his eyes to look up at Zero for a second before he straightened himself up and sighed, putting his scythe back into place and looked at Zuma, "Come on Zuma...work awaits..."