One of the traits you admire about me, isn't it? My heartlessness. You, who attempts to abandon his more sentimental emotions. You, who disdains mollifying agents. Is that not how you describe any longing for a moirail to begin with? Misguided at best, pathetic at worst?

But don't confuse heartlessness with deceit, necessarily. Not that one can't coexist with the other, of course, but they aren't always intertwined. What would you do, if you had inadvertently turned down a sincere invitation?