Apparently. [is viktor's answer, just barely resisting the urge to run his hands over his face. the loathing he feels for remina right now is immense, and he hasn't the slightest idea who here exactly is supposed to be learning some valuable lesson.

frankly if he's being used as a prop for the pthumerians to teach something to a necromatic god he is going to be livid, to put it lightly. the brief look he catches on his host's face doesn't help twisting unease in his stomach in the slightest.]

A somewhat normal conversation turned quickly hostile for reasons I still do not- [viktor starts then stops, stares for a moment at the tea cart before swearing in some fantasy slavic language. this time he does run a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he says,] I do not suppose you've tried those raspberries yourself, have you?

[he's only seen the other fruit in action so this settles too neatly and obnoxiously into place. of course..]