I meant for your cult buddies. Imagine plotting a nefarious plan for 200 years and getting creamed right at the finish line.

[Making light of it helps shave off the edge of awkwardness. It's a violent confession, uncomfortable, but not intimate. Not in any way that she might discern.

He doesn't seem open to sweet words of comfort anyhow.]

I'd toast to your good health if I had a drink. You'll have to settle with plain well wishes instead.