[ A mirthless smile seems to tug at one corner of his mouth, and soundlessly he merely taps the side of his nigh empty glass; swilling amber liquid. ]

Mun would have many believe that this is the mortal poison of a shade of mine. A slave to the bottle. Though also, she'd like to think we're rather weak to chocolate and absurd excuses for Midgardian "music". [ He rolls his eyes, swigging his last. ] What possesses them to dream such things, I will never know.

Sad to say, it would appear our puppet masters bear some similarities in that department... she rather enjoys pondering an amnesiac me living a fabricated life as a mortal astronomer. [ Sighs, wistfully eyeing his empty glass. ]

'Tis indeed a terrible life.