[Sebastian's hand falls limply back down on the bed, and for some time he doesn't speak, just lets the laughter ebb away. It's possible that the ritual had him intrigued, drew him near - but if so, it was hardly because he counted on any of the occultists to truly call for him. Those pathetic fools-- it's laughable how it's never the bombastic self-important ones that manage a summoning.]
"Anyone."
[His voice is calmer, almost with a certain fondness to it. This is nostalgic, isn't it? Pleasant reminiscing.]
"No matter what kind of person it it. No matter what they will do to me after. No matter what the cost to me or anyone else." Those were... your thoughts, were they not?
[Perhaps not in those exact words, but the sentiment remains. Why would you need chanting or spells, when those are the cries of your soul?]