[ Maybe, he understands Liem Talbott more than most. The shame and degradation of self he feels, when his stomach demands food? It is unbearable, and so he gives to drink, to illicit substances that diminish his body's newfound appetite. He ignores the burst of strange un-hunger that has awoken within his very soul, craving something he has not the word for, upon the night that a demon revealed to him the thing he found most appetizing. ]

If only I was still perfect, and if only you could be.

[ Mortals were imperfect, they flowed freely across time and space, given boundless opportunity to change themselves, to adjust their fate and become what they dreamed of. A god was a static existence, a narrow set of boundaries that ran deeply - not far. To some, Set's words might be infinitely cruel - to bring up perfection of body, the nebulous and unattainable thing that it was, could be perceived as an intentional slight. An insult. Yet, he says it anyways. Liem might understand the meaning.

Slowly, he sets aside his thefted item. Slowly, he pushes his hand down firmly, across the back of Liem's wrist, until the burning heat of his own body can be felt through any number of layers of clothing. He does not grasp nor pull on the priest, simply lingering as a pressure, an undeniable thing of diminished power and wounded dignity. ]

Aah, there is the separation of matters. As a god, it is practically my duty to attend to you in your own's temporary absence. [ He'll give Liem that, and Abadar, too. ] I ask for dedications of violence from Hayame and Dimitri. That they call on my name when they do harm to others, and I accept them unconditionally for it. You already have a god in your heart, so I do not wish to defile what you and he share.

[ So, he thinks. What could be worth his blood? ]

- knowing that your need shames you, your offering ought to shame me.