Oh, but I do have proof. All the countless dead during the plague, and the things we did, whilst searching for a cure, down there in the dungeons.

[Sickly, he shudders.]

There's a little island, you know, just off the coast of Vesuvia. You can see it from the dock, the tower out there. It's the place where Lucio sent them, the plague victims, by the hundreds. The lazaret...a place of quarantine, and ultimately cremation. It's...well. It's a fairly stark reminder of everything I did wrong. And then there's the mess with Asra, and with his...it's my fault, you know, that his...friend died, he was apprenticed under me, trying to learn more about medicine. And I was too busy to even notice he'd become ill until he'd already been packed off to that place, the lazaret. And there are countless other things, over the years. Trust me, if I get near it, things go wrong. If I were you, I'd kick me out on my arse before I poison things for you, too.

[But then he laughs, a little bitter-edged, runs leather-gloved hands across his face a second time.]

But listen to me, I'm rambling aren't I? A regular sodden drunk. You ought to tell me to shut up.