[ Viktor answers Emet-Selch's icy wall with a wry but warming grin, the faintest hint of fond exasperation crossing his features - an unusual look on his face, in particular, but not quite so unfamiliar upon the soul of Azem. Emet-Selch will never willingly see himself or the world as Viktor does, but that is not a problem in need of fixing. It is a point where the two of them can meet, can make balance. ]

I do not seek to absolve you. Only look for the good worth preserving. 'Tis worthwhile to try and keep what one can, I think.

[ Fingers hover over the assembled selections, as instructed, and he picks one of the cheeses he hasn't tried before, sliding the snack onto his tongue, and then listing bodily to lean against Emet-Selch, watching the horizon in silence.

Next, he selects another pickle, crunches into it and hums happily. ]

When I am too old to f-fight, you can trade me to a pickle farm.