[ He doesn't quite jump at the comment, but his back stiffens a little, shoulders squaring, not expecting the attention, the warmth in Viktor's voice at his observation. A marvel seems like he's slightly overselling it. He hasn't done anything particularly of note, but then he supposes any bit of fanciful magic must be made all the more striking given the fact that Viktor hasn't seen him perform acts like this for the simple pleasure of creating. ]

You, my dear, are biased in the worst way.

[ Try as he might, he cannot quite muster the haughty tone he wishes for, instead finding himself embarrassed in the oddest way at unmerited compliments, even if the giver is effusive with his praise. Blessedly, distraction comes in the form of Viktor eating one of the ridiculously large grapes, spitting it out near as soon as he does. Emet-Selch watches with vague amusement, vanishing the one he had taken a bite from into nothing but a flicker of aether, cleaning his fingers of juice with a handkerchief pulled from a pocket while Viktor does his magic trick.

It is, he thinks, rather impressive. That much fine detail work while an item is moving is no small feat, and Viktor executes it so easily after very nearly dying. To do so is not a large spend of his aether, but there's a part of Emet-Selch he has to swallow down that wants to stop him, a horrible kernel of fear that he has overestimated Viktor's ability to withstand a drain on his power.

A needless worry - the grape unfurls like a flower blooming in impossible colors and Emet-Selch releases a breath he didn't know he was holding when Viktor turns his attention back, all bright laughter and satisfaction at his little trick. ]

I will thank you to keep your little tricks to a minimum until you've had at least a proper night of sleep, ideally two, and a proper meal.

[ As to the question, Emet-Selch fixes himself another little plate of treats, mulling over the answer he wants to give. ]

What is your theory of how I came to know it?