Viktor. Mel, now. The Kiramanns. Everyone on the Council who fought for his exile.

"No one in particular, I guess," he shrugs, crumpling up the paper that held his sandwich and tossing it with surprising accuracy at the nearest trashcan. "Why, are you unimpressed?" It's a bit of a needle. A tease, testing to see if Viktor will tease back. Take the bait, so to speak. Wanting so desperately to know where he stands with this man.