"He's outside. Went for a run with Huan."

"I suppose there's no point in asking him to come back."

And reading. "Oh, this version of my father invented writing. They were behind us from the start - he did it around the time mine did the printing press - I was in fact born before indoor plumbing was invented -"

"Please do not use the first person for alts especially this one."

"It is super weird having you refer to him in the first person."

"Point taken.

They're more evil than us but there's no, like, 'and that's when Melkor gave three generations of Elves their education on ethics -'"

"What are the other more-evil manifestations?"

"Crime rate of, like, non-negligible. The murder of this guild merchant sparked these riots, so-and-so was a major proponent of this bill until his wife killed him in a domestic incident  - my Noldor had a population of thirteen million and one murder every thousand years -"

"...are they worse than, say, a human population, just to be perfectly fair here?"

"I don't know what a normal human population's crime rate is, but they are probably not worse than a pre-literate human population - hell, Evil Me is probably not even making a splash by comparison to evil human rulers - I can't find references to famines or population relocations in his empire -"

"I might censor the press," says a voice from the base of the stairs. "I do, actually, though I'm not covering for any famines - Bar, can we have breakfast for two?"

Would you like to pay now or run up a tab? inquires Bar.

Last chance to talk me out of threatening him, she tells non-evil Maitimo.

What does that accomplish, exactly, besides making us feel good -

"I'd like to run up a tab, please. We'll pay you back as soon as we open the door to our world again, but we're probably not going to do that until we have the means to win the war, is that going to be a problem?"

Although various patrons have superstitions about the wisdom of running up a tab I do not personally mind in the least. A pair of matching breakfasts appear. Oatmeal with raisins and dates and maple and cream and walnuts. Slices of bacon spinach mozzarella frittata. Tiny watermelon halves with spoons sticking out of them. Smoothies.

"Oooh, delicious, thank you. Am I safe upstairs, or is security only for down here?"

Security will intervene if you cause particularly substantial property damage upstairs or excessively harass the giant squid who, being a giant squid, cannot enjoy the particular protection of the main bar area. Otherwise it is downstairs public interior areas only which are monitored.

"Okay." He sighs and looks at everyone else. "Findekáno doesn't want to see you; I can drag him downstairs anyway and then breakfast can be excruciating and we can camp out here indefinitely, or you can observe that you will presumably have years of opportunities to assassinate me and it's an absurd chance to take until you're at least close on a solution to the Enemy and then I can go upstairs in one piece? Are there assurances that'll help that happen?"

"Lets start with why in the fucking hell we should believe a word out of your mouth particularly on what your rape victim wants."

"I swear that nothing I've said in this conversation has been a lie or misleading or relevantly incomplete. He was a wreck when he found me, that contingency operated badly, we've been talking through how to phrase it more carefully though in our defense this wasn't on the list of concerns we anticipated. He's terrified of you and thinks you hate him and spent a while crying over the world where Valinor got destroyed and asking me to promise I wouldn't do that - which I didn't - I can't, if it might end the war -"

"...He thinks we hate him?"

"Don't. Bring. That. Up. Again."

"I apologize," he says, eyes on Cam. "That was thoughtless. He thinks you're angry with him for letting me in. I didn't know you well enough to assess that one way or the other. I can convey reassurances if you'd like."

"I think you can guess what I'd like," she mutters. "Obviously we're not going to blame someone under coercive oaths for being coerced, not being a rapist does not, shockingly enough, obviate one's ability to think."