He couldn't help the quirk of the mouth, and he spoke again with the same heedless ease. "Where do you think you'd wind up? Call me curious. I could credibly think a place for me could be found in nearly every circle. I've wondered, if the Florentine were right about Hell and its composition, what the rule is on multiples." He shrugged. His hands were clasped together, and he was wringing them unconsciously. "Is it that you go to the circle exemplifying your worst sin?" He might be talking nonsense, but he was dimly aware of it. It felt wonderfully freeing, to be honest.