Nuada considers the reasoning, holding the so very bright blue gaze, and finds it clever enough. But is it ever really enough? The thought irritates the moment it's spawned: conquests and industry and nuclear bombs, did it ever take more than a single man being just clever enough?

His lips curl; the blade lifts, leaving nary a mark save for the faintest of impressions in the skin. He rather hopes the impression on the young man's mind to be more substantial.

He lowers his arms, and takes a step back. Behind him, the Extras wrest each other out of their collective stupor, and go about their business once more. "By all means," says Nuada quietly, returning the knife to its hidden confines. "Dazzle me with your clear-sight."