"...That does not make it better." There's - a trace of bleak amusement there, at least, and he doesn't shy away from the comfort - not least because he knows they're both reeling right now.

It's the one thing he's always managed to avoid. He's slaughtered thousands of people and damned a fair share of them, but never claimed a soul directly. He's the most hands-off patron an infernal warlock could ask for, even once they're condemned to the Hells.

"It isn't real. However they look at you, whatever they say to or about us - " Zerxus tears his eyes from the griffon, finally. "You don't belong to me. I don't control you." He was, in fact, extremely adamant about that not being part of the arrangement. "We're doing this together."