"Moss," he repeats, incredulous. No, that seems a bit too experimental for his tastes. His preferences have always lain with the familiar, he only grudgingly sampling new things because either Hythlodaeus or their other mutual friend pushed them on to him.

"...The black rose one may be worth trying for the novelty of it," he allows, after a pause. That plan, too, had ended in failure, he thinks morosely. He wonders if this promise to restore their worlds would enable its spread. Or would it simply allow him to triumph over the Warrior of Light?

Their face crosses his thoughts, not for the first time. Their kindness, their determination, their smile - would that he could see them again.

He goes quiet, staring over the loft railing at the diners below.