(Vlast doesn't concern himself too deeply over the philosophical questions of What Rifters Actually Are; he is himself, nothing more and nothing less. Whatever theories abound on how that came to be have, to a one, some manner of precedent in his own world. Dwelling on it seems a waste of time.)

He's almost tempted at the offer, his hand stretching out for Benedict's face. But that smile makes him think twice as his face grow hot like he's been sunning himself too long, and he quickly retracts his hand and rolls onto his side with his back to Benedict.

"Ridiculous," he grunts.