The Sulcar’s smile is infinitesimal, a mere deepening of the corners of his mouth, but any wider smile would look out of place on his gaunt gray face. “A pleasant evening to you, my host,” he says, raising his glass. “May we ever part wealthier for gifts of truth exchanged.”

It’s hard to tell whether the ritual formality in his tone is genuine or ironic; Joe, like Lorne, is known to have very little respect in general for the customs and traditions of his own people.