Achilles isn’t immune to a challenge and he follows suit, knocking back the rest of his drink in one go. It burns all the way down, but he was prepared this time. His brow twitches into a quick furrow, before he puts down his empty glass for Birdy to refill.

“Ask whatever you like, Miss Honey.” He chases the drink with a bite of strudel to help banish the residue from his mouth. It’s exquisitely flakey and he hums his appreciation. “I’m curious to hear what the bards and scholars have made of my story.”

And equally curious to know which memories Pyrrhus still retains without Neoptolemus. Maybe curious isn’t the right word. Anxious, more like, but the vodka should help soften the sting.