“Why approximate when we have the power to make ourselves perfectly clear.”

It just makes sense.

No elfroot, no wine, and for Richard, no distractions. There’s an answering challenge to his patience, a steady lean of weight onto an invisible prybar. He hasn't blinked.

The only small mercy between them is Thot. She lolls idle where she’s held, purring, velvety soft, the thin whip of her tail curled and flicked in a lazy cycle between her feet.