As happened so many times that other people brought up their own proclivities in comparison to his own, their own tendency toward a more sociable morality or moderation or whatever it was, Krem found his chest go tight, his stomach dark and leery. He picked up his stitches, careful but swift as ever, and looked at those rather than at Biffy and his millinery.

"I don't think it's much of most people's natural inclinations," Krem said, a little slowly, a little bitterly even. He could say quite a bit of how he, himself, didn't fit neatly into most people's natural inclinations, but that seemed a bit off color, somehow.

He sighed a little. Not dismissively. He wasn't upset, even. Just-- "I try not to stand on any toes, I suppose. Just be very clear on where I stand, now, and make sure I know where everyone else is at as well. It's better that way. Less messy."

Less likely to run astray from him, like with Noah.