"...Is that so terrible a thing?" To be different. To feel different- adapt and change and move forward. He never understood the stoic determination to remain the same- to reach a point and adapt no longer. Such stillness and static nature would see any Crow, any noble even, dead in short order in Antiva. But the almost militaristic determination to maintain the status quo even should the players change baffled him none the less.

Of course he was ever one to change the rules as they suited him.

But then this. The compliment, the endearment that warmed him slightly. Of course he was beautiful, of course Michel found him fine. He would be a fool to not.

What came after, however. "...You are elf blooded?"

The sweetness, the angle to his face- not so strange for any human, no, but it lent that beauty most humans found in elves to him without the overt, damning features.