"...Serial murder. Is your...specialty," Ganymede repeats slowly, to make sure he heard that correctly, because if he did then clearly this man has both a fair bit of explaining to do, and a much better disguise than the average man hiding something.

"And here mine's just a drink. Goodness," he murmurs, spinning a little metal pony glass around his thumb. It's a faint lie, because his real specialty is being unable to die--or more adequately, stay dead--but that's slightly harder to work into conversation.