[The Fool looks up from his whittling in time to spot Zephyr’s approach. ‘Guy’ might be a slightly inaccurate label to apply to a person whose choice of clothing and general demeanour seems to float comfortably amongst genders. His lips pull up into an inscrutable smile, and he lifts his chin.] And I assume you have some curiosity about what I am offering.

[He holds up a hand, eyebrows raised.] There is no catch. You have my word.