"It's a turn of phrase, Victor Vale," Rupert replies with a serene, glittering smile. "And you know it."

Oh, but this is an interesting little challenge. People all too easily fall for Rupert's charms. It's nice to have someone at least marginally resistant. The hand remains pointedly extended Victor's way; if he's not going to take it then someone had better put something in it. The last person who had refused Rupert's hand had ended up stabbed, not that Rupert has any intention of doing that here. He tilts his head a fraction, his gaze still fixed smilingly upon Victor's, and flexes the fingers of his outstretched in a teasing little wiggle.

"I don't have the pox. Promise."