Perhaps all the better for her, that Alastor rejected such faith. He would not, for all his ego, be worshipped by anyone, whether their cause was just, or not. Worship was tantamount to enslavement, this he knew. No god had ever existed, to his knowledge, that wasn't subsurvient to its devotees. With faith and worship came need, reliance. Those were things better not experienced, if your desire was to remain truly free.

And that was his desire. He would rid her of this silly belief in him, one day.

He swallowed his drink fast enough to watch Lotte down hers, and smiled coyly all the way, lips pressed to the rim of his glass.

"Is it not," he chuckled, when she spoke. It was the drink that drove the laughter, more potent now in this form. It didn't scare him to be this way, only because he knew he would be different within a day, something between what he was now, and what he had been. This was only a temporary setback and not one that he feared. He thought of himself as too intelligent to be afraid of that which was assured to end.

But, he set the glass down and waved his hand, not dismissing Lotte, but dismissing the alcohol and perhaps the level of concern. It was silly to be concerned with a creature like him. That, too, was profoundly human.

He reclined on the table, one hand behind him, propping himself up. "I think," he said, "I'd rather watch you work. What else do you have to bring?"