[He laughs a little - always the jester willing to laugh at the king - though it seems a little bit of a kneejerk reflex, as he quiets just as fast. Set could cut out his tongue. Then he wouldn't say anything, anymore. Would that be its own mercy?]

[He listens quietly. A friend, a confidante, someone who he could trust with the true self, underneath everything.]

...No. He didn't see my core. [He says, as sure as anything.] But man. He got close. I did the same for him, too.

[A little rough noise, his nose rubbing up against the god's neck.]

Two birds of a feather. I was real bad at being a bird.