“If I’m not being too presumptuous.”

Ellis called him to assist in the construction of a chicken coop and hadn’t squeezed his head off his shoulders when he’d informed him of his betrayal of Masters Stark and Poppell-de Foncé. His confidence in the shape and nature of his classification in whatever rolodex of non-Wardens is absolute.

Because he can be merciful, particularly after having held Ellis’ feet to a very small but also very persistent fire, he adds (as he pours) a more concrete: “Yes.”