[It's weird to be having this oddly sweet conversation about putting his skull on things, for sure - that's simply the brand. He chuckles, giving Viktor's waist a brief squeeze that is totally reprimanding for making fun of the Imperial Cool Skulls. Please, they're so serious.]

You don't know; my skull might be very nice. I'd even let a scroll be shoved in there for the most House spirit.

[And listen, he has only so many vices, let him have office supplies. He pictures the mug, notebook smudges and all, and decides with considerable amusement,] It's hideous. Don't put me on a mug, please. I can't fathom a future of my face being forgotten about in sinks and cabinets.

[That said, in the spirit of things,] What about your face mug?