Again that rush of warmth, one that continues to suffuse all that comes next with a soft glow that can only be fondness.

“Come now. You know nothing as banal as Death can claim me.” The tone's arrogant, sure, all the swagger befitting his former station, though there's an edge to it; this isn't a blade that sits comfortably in his hand, nor one he quite knows how to make sing, but it's the one he's been given and is trying to wield anyway. Almost but not quite a boast, as if he himself lacks some measure of conviction in its merit. An edge which is lost as he continues “Though I will concede it would have made for an excellent finale... something I doubt your new allies can hope to offer.”

The word 'allies' tastes... not rancid, exactly? Offensively bland, if anything. Insipid. And yes, very obviously bait, expecting her to voice some protest that will put at least vague faces on the Pleroma blur.