"Miles." X nods, committing that to memory. "It's good to meet you, Miles."

It's still surreal, actually, saying his name without the other person recoiling in some combination of fright and disgust. Even more surreal is how Miles doesn't even ask. X is a little more used to that than he was -- evidently, no one in Aifaran likes to pry -- but it still takes him a few seconds to reorient himself.

"So," he goes on, "I take it you're not usually a fan of the Sabonile priests?"