[ her touch has the two serpents rearing their heads towards her warily, but they do nothing further; nor does Messmer, who simply turns his head to look towards her. To touch him so casually as if he isn't a walking sin - to invite him to her home, say she wants to meet him again, even - is outrageous. But Odile doesn't seem like the type for platitudes. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to so many people treating him so normally. If the seeds of his doubt in the Golden Order hadn't already been planted, the fact that those bereft of light he met here could overlook his serpentine nature might have sowed them on their own.

Rest. What a pipe dream. And yet, although remote, the possibility is just barely in his view. ]

Thou wouldst invite a tyrant to thy doorstep. [ he scoffs. ] ... If in the coming years my head yet remaineth upon my shoulders, perhaps.

[ his timescale may be slightly off in comparison to hers. Everyone is immortal in the Lands Between, after all... ]