[With the hand that wasn't holding Vil's bloodied one, Rook reaches up to boldly brush the tear from Vil's cheek, cupping it with reverence. His gaze is fond, perhaps even a little heartbroken himself--as if experiencing Vil's very emotions as his own.]

Ah, but has he made that decision, or have you made it for him?

[Vil, so beautiful and yet so tortured. Always admired but never seen. Well, at least by most. Returning to his task of healing, Rook pulls a small potion vial from his kit and unstoppers it, pouring it over Vil's wounded hand. The sanitized wound begins to heal rapidly.]

There, now. Monsieur Magicam has had a drop of your poison. Let it seep in, and he shall see how his stomach fairs tomorrow, non?