[ah lovely, this is basically a game of necromancy trivia and most of what viktor knows is about the ninth or sixth house. what was the second again? the poem was something about discipline and trials, the cohort is the army he thinks, so... great. he's aligned himself accidentally with the necromancer enforcers. he loves that, personally.

why did they have to be color coded? if the academy was more goth he'd at least have a little bit of an easier time, assuming the lack of skull paint didn't give him away.

all that aside it is simply endearing to watch pal wind up and go, so he supposes he can suffer this awkward trivia shuffle. he assumes the worst case scenario is flubbing so badly camilla decides he's a threat and kicks his ass, which he thinks would end the dream. probably. hard to say when it's also a memory going wildly off the rails.]

Responsible of you. Imagine the trouble one could get into between the biscuits and [his face goes a little pinched] flimsy. [god what a nightmare.]

Then I must not be an ambassador either by that logic. How old are you? [he can ask questions too, and he's curious.]