He absorbs the story slowly, and it sounds not far off from what he understands of his own. Moreover, he does not sense deceit in her words, and her pain at his insult feels all too real.

He believes. And with that belief comes anger.

"I don't have one," he snarls. "Not for you. Not for 'the Disciple,' when I'm sure you liked my older work so much better. Words you would hold me to, even after having my hands burned from their joints."