The hand left pointing folds to rest on his arm, the corners of his mouth curling again so that he watches with amusement, or pride, or maybe both. "Oh, a fierce opinion and a strong dose of stubborn pride? You'll fit right in here."

"So," he starts, then stops briefly to sip his wine. "You can spot the dead even when they do not look dead. How convenient." He wrinkles up his nose. "My accuracy is always a little... off." A sigh and his irked expression drops with a shrug. "It's not hard to tell with you, though. You look like a wraith. Much better skin and far better dressed, though," he adds approvingly. "Very Napoleonic... but you should have left the sword and armour."