"I'm always angry, princess." Moreso now without any light to keep him from treading such dark waters. He took another big swig from his bottle of wine. Mortals were the unfortunate scapegoats in his good and bad moods. He'd been in a bad one for too long. "Be careful what you ask me next." Because there was no softness inside to cater to her. Maybe she was built of more sweetness (something she'd gotten from her mother), but he didn't have it in him right now. He was drowning himself.