The familiar voice of the reporter caused him to turn and glare over his shoulder, the flash of Keats's circular glasses not mistaken for anyone else as he took a seat next to him. "If I wanted a vocabulary lesson I would have asked for it. And I'm certainly not going to apologize for categorizing him by his own species. If he wants to call himself a homunculus then that's his business. If you've got a better name for it then why don't you spit it out and quit it with the encyclopedic explanations."

His next drink arrives and he downs it in seconds. "I'm going to need something far stronger than this," he calls to the bartender. If he's got to deal with Keats he might want a few more than what he'd originally intended.