Boy, does he know it. Four years ago, he had every shady, unruly, and otherwise undesirable Black Blood in the Special Zone under his thumb. Now he has to work on a smaller scale, with too many people around who can overtake him if he tries anything gutsy.

That's not to say that he'd ever seriously consider trying to run anything here but you know how it goes (you get bored, you get thinking).

"That implies that you have enough uniformity against you that your plans will actually become undone," he points out, "Which may mean another emerging figurehead."

He glances over Galadriel's shoulder at the girls as they enter again. One puts an appropriate plate and silverware in front of Galadriel, while another does the same for Zelman--french fries, because quite frankly, they're delicious and he can do what he wants.

"But even that would be preferred," he continues, ignoring the two as they curtsy politely and start to leave again, "That's direction."

A moment of thought later, he leans forward and adds one more thought, "Though practical application in this particular case is problematic."