"What is a shame is his taste in wine and company. Apparently he is keeping time with that strange Antivan Elf." Not that one, that one. She mimes lines on her face, lips twisted in a distasteful grimace. "Most unfortunate."

A beat.

"Could you spare me the mental image? It is like picturing you with pale, boiled jerky. All white and wrinkled and full of salt." Wrong in so many ways.