"Well, I have not devolved into thinking my father's a wonderful person, or that I should enact revenge on all those who oppose me, or that orange is definitely my color. So, I think I'm all right."

"I think you could pull off orange if you really wanted to, it would just be harder than using a quieter color."

"I doubt it would work, but, by all means, tempt my psyche's fragility. I'll end up being petty all the time."

"Oh no. You'd be insufferable."

"So insufferable! 'Edarial, why is my room on fire?' 'You didn't smile at me at dinner! Burn!'"

"I had not imagined such staggering pettiness. Clearly my imagination needs work."

"Yes. That's what I'm protecting you from with my sacrifice. Staggering levels of pettiness."

"Thank you for not setting my room on fire," she remarks dryly.

"You're very welcome," he says, affectionately.

"Goodness knows one of my favorite things about my room is that it isn't on fire."

"It's my favorite thing about a lot of things. That they aren't on fire."

"I'm not on fire," she says helpfully.

"Are you sure? Have you checked, recently? It might have changed."

"I'm totally not on fire," she promises. "Even a little."

"Oh, well, in that case..." He leans over, and kisses her forehead. "Thank you, for not being on fire."

"Is it," she inquires, "your favorite thing about me?"

"No. But thank you for not being on fire, regardless."

"You're welcome, for that and for whatever is your favorite thing."

"Mhm. Thank you for wanting to better the world and then going and working to do it."

"If that's your favorite thing, then I have already welcomed you for it."

"Yup. But I hadn't thanked you for it, so I didn't want the welcome to feel left out."

"It might have violated causality."

"And we can't have that, now can we?"

"It would be terrible. Things might become on fire without reason to do so!"

"And we both know how much we like things to not be on fire."