"Wouldn't move in with someone I didn't like."

"Naturally," the Fool replies with an enigmatic smile, evidently deriving a bit of enjoyment from this gentle needling. He hides half of his expression behind his mug of tea as he sips from it, then lifts his chin afterwards. "I shall not pry, of course--" of course, "--but I will say that you have good taste in friends." Friends.

Sip.