The younger man leans back, watching Kristoff over the rim of his teacup. He still feels in control of the situation, but is finding it more awkward than he expected.
Certainly, the veiled apology for blasting him through the castle walls as a child had been due. It was as if one had been caught hunting a rabbit with a guided missile. A stray thought wondered if walking out of Doomstadt, past the guards and attendants, would have been worse anyway, but was put aside.
"Latveria is doing well. Obviously, voices to the contrary are not permitted on the world stage, but.. it prospers indeed, with its borders typically secure, and the crops managed."
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