[That's coward's talk—but no, it's probably best that Zekarion doesn't have to sit across the dating table with the ghost who his memory-dream self tried to destroy... He looks up at Octavian, his posture as casual as it's ever been.]

I suppose it could have a place, [he concedes, but his tone is skeptical.] It's not exactly the kind of mood I'm going for.

[He glances down at that cookie. This man and his acquisitions.]

Gathering another set of "prizes", are we?