Miquel squints, leaning over Cesare's throbbing shoulder. "You will forgive me if I remain sceptical as to not feeling it," he says with emphasis.
Cesare leans back, hoping Miquel might be more solid now, but he isn't. "Where he comes from," Cesare whispers, "they eat pain, he said," and while that may be a gross oversimplification, too many things have tugged at Cesare's brain these past minutes for him to make much of a distinction. Pain is pain and Xellos may enjoy it just a little too much.
"Conjured or not," Miquel tries again, "you don't seem hale. And unless you take down the ring, I suspect no-one can stop you, can they? Ser Xellos?"