[And that's enough to keep him from eventually beating the Salvatores into unrecognizable chunks of flesh, gristle and bone. Clearly. He drops his gaze down to the table, watching as his fingers tap out some methodical rhythm. There's a grin on his face now, one that still can't be called warm but at the same time lacks that bit of the biting chill from just a few seconds ago.] Is that an invitation, Miss Forbes?
[He asks it with an almost careless air, but it's a far from careless question. She should understand by now that any invitations, no matter what they are for, cannot be rescinded.]