Danse has a fairly well-attuned sense of when Deacon is being a shit, even if he doesn't always understand how or for what purpose, but he considers the question in earnest for a moment anyway, ashing into the mug in turn without yet taking note of what it says.

"I think I can be trusted to discern the difference between an overstuffed duvet and an assassination attempt once I'm actually awake," he says. "In any case, don't start. I really am trying to trust these people as long as we're all in the same predicament, and it hasn't been an easy road."

He taps a bit more ash into the mug, and only then gives it a proper once-over, head tilting in the most canine gesture he's made since he started sprouting actual wolf parts. "What in the name of God--"