She wonders after his happiness? Surely she's joking— yet there's no dilation of her pupils, no hint of deception when she says it. She isn't lying, and whatever laugh he almost gives on instinct is caught uselessly in that strange, simple truth.

"Happiness can be bought, my darling. And passion more than suffices when it comes to a whetted appetite." His hand reaches across to take up her own, giving it an overly chilled little pat.