He smile widens at Keldek's laughter; he has an instinct for the nuances of human emotional expression that Lazarus lacks, which is ironic, considering that only one of them truly feels bad about hurting others. What matters is that he can tell he's not being mocked.

"When you love your work, and you're talented, there's no option but to do your job well," he assures the man across from him, lighting up his own cigarette. This one is hand-rolled and smells strongly of cannabis, and he figures that it's probably OK by this point. "I'm interested in your plans, and as for my 'other half'..." his tone takes on a dismissive, cold quality. "I can do what he can. All his memories before the lights over Neuschwanstein, all the dozens of echoes he's gotten back, belong to me, too. But that's where the similarities end, got it? I'm the strong one. You picked right, and I don't give a fuck about enmity from that brittle little ghost or the people who keep him from breaking."