[The marquis smiles. It's one of those in-between smiles, knife-sharp, wicked and mean, but meant all the more genuinely for being a heartbeat away from cruelty. He is a cruel man; however, he also has the capacity to be merciful. He is a bastard, but he also knows the depths and heights of man and beast, all of which he has experienced in the course of his lifetime. He is jaded, but he perseveres.]

[He is persevering now, by not leaving. He could leave. Dean wouldn't, he's sure, hold it against him. He could exit the room and disappear, and Dean would understand.]

[But while the marquis de Carabas is not, has never been, will never be a brave man, he is also no coward. Just because he doesn't remember his name doesn't mean he doesn't know himself.]

I was right about you, you know. You survived in my home. You thrived. Your heart beat with London's.

[A compact statement that means more than a his most convoluted. It thrums with respect, with understanding, with brotherhood; it speaks to resilience, cleverness, and in this case a certain amount of bravery. Most of all, it speaks to the fact that Dean, a man capable of swimming in the veins of the Undercity alongside him, is irrevocably connected to everything he is and ever will be.]

[It speaks, in short, to understanding. To equality. With a statement like that, what more need be said?]

[He tips his chin up.]

Are you going to get me one or not?