"Yes, us," comes his living brother's peevish response. "It would rather defeat the purpose in the singular."

Johannes Cabal settles his gaze on the black surface of his remaining coffee, as if he's decided to spend some quality time with it in the possible face of being parted with it in short order. He takes another sip with a stuffy little throat-clearing noise.

He sets it aside. He has colored minutely, but aside from that he looks considerably more composed, having straightened up again and met Horst's unhappy bloodshot gaze again. "Are we done with the indignation?" he says tonelessly. "We've much to discuss."