[The edge of his lips curl in disgust, and he cuts a glance at the illusion invading his space. Even if he could admit objectively her beauty, there's a strange lack of interest in her charm.]

Drinking my blood would probably kill you on the spot. Not that I wouldn't turn your fangs into trophies before you had the chance.

[All at once, he unsheathes his sword and vanishes briefly again. Whether the illusion simply dissipates or actually loses a head, he doesn't care. The streak of his sword arcs directly through the doppelgänger's neck, but rather than follow through with an attack to her actual self, he comes to stand in place a foot from where he had last been.

It feels almost like a cat playing with its food maybe.]

Anything else? I'll let you finish before I show you what all I'm truly capable of doing.