“That is not a tradition I will allow, nor will your friends,” Kennet replied, finally taking a sip from the glass in front of him. Alcohol did very little for him, which was why his favoured drink did not come from ingredients meant to be drunk by mortals. To share in the wine with Elia was more symbolic of his acceptance of her being there than anything.
“You are being given a leniency for tonight.”
Kennet would never speak of his history. Aria at the beginning of their stay in London attempted to bring up the past in order to pull him out of the stoic shell he kept for the sake of his contract with the Cirque, but no matter what the stories he had lived, they were blimps in his overall history. Gods and Goddess and the like would never be spoken of, confirmed nor denied. It was not his place to tell tales. There had been another Djinn that did such things.