[He takes his time responding, letting the boy’s words drip with misplaced righteousness. Sylus doesn’t move to take the glass back, leaving it pointed at him, a useless gesture of defiance that only seems to deepen the smirk on his face.]

Treating everyone like garbage? [Sylus echoes, his tone calm, almost curious, as if he’s genuinely intrigued by the accusation. Maybe because he is.] Tell me, where exactly have I been doing that? By not grovelling at their feet? By not handing out my attention like it’s worth nothing?

I didn’t need to prove anything by having you drink that wine. But you, you felt the need to prove something, didn’t you? [Voice drops to a near whisper, as if sharing a secret, only to raise a bit louder to glance at another servant who keeps looking at Sylus and Fuuta, unsure if they are supposed to go or stay there watching whatever that is.] See? He can't drink it, either. I'm sure you have something better for us?

[The servant nods, and runs out to fetch another glass, plucking the used one from Fuuta's still-raised hand.]