[Of course. Of course. The way Grell explains it, Jack can see the whole thing in his mind's eye. The muted half-colours of bright moonlight, the sharpness of sounds in the quiet after night falls, the rich-sharp smell of blood. It's not just sharp edges and wounds, it's passion, a drive so deep and essential that thousands of years of civilization have left it no weaker, no less vital.
And Grell understands, she understands and she's sharing that with him and the world's suddenly unfolding into its real shape and god, it's almost too much like enlightenment. But it's still adoration, and before he even knows what's come over him Jack is turning into the warmth clasping his arm. He has to kiss her. He'll die if he doesn't, and she won't have even been responsible enough for his demise for it to be satisfying.]
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And Grell understands, she understands and she's sharing that with him and the world's suddenly unfolding into its real shape and god, it's almost too much like enlightenment. But it's still adoration, and before he even knows what's come over him Jack is turning into the warmth clasping his arm. He has to kiss her. He'll die if he doesn't, and she won't have even been responsible enough for his demise for it to be satisfying.]