Anafiel leans against the arm of the chair, supporting his chin with his hand. "So. You are asking me to revel in food and drink, in luxury and wealth when I might find it, and in the gift of desire. Should I do this consistently, you will see me as cooperating you in your quest to gain everything, as it were, and ensure I have that which I want." He makes a sudden sound, quite close to laughter, if not exactly that. "I am no ascetic, Messire Phaethon. I never have been. Though I am quite fond of the pleasures of the mind, I am equally fond of the pleasures of the world. Yes, I can do that much for you. It is, after all, what I would have done in any case."

He thinks of his beautiful boy, who ventured into the the prison of his mind to rescue him, whose had gently argued with him as a near equal in order to persuade him to leave. Thinks of Alcuin's moon-white hair spilled over a pillow. Yes. He would have no problem fulfilling his half of the bargain.