The innocent bite of pastry holds his fascination, at least for a moment. The question hangs in the meantime.

And then Vlast's gaze turns inward.

"We don't."

...Like each other, that is.

Vlast reaches for the bottle, refilling their glasses. It's something to occupy his hands while he tries to find some way to summarize the ongoing conflict with his immediate family.

"Whatever affection endures between my kind decays under the weight of time, duty, or death."