"Might not be that much of a patron. I just know what I like." He starts to walk, hoping the young man will follow. He isn't even thinking about alliances and contracts. He's already made his decision about that. He's not about to own a person. He can't bring himself to even think about such a thing. But friends, friends he can do. He doesn't have contacts here. He doesn't have eyes and ears. He has to construct his ties all over again.

He pauses at the question. He wonders it's because of his accent. "Me. I came from a place called Gotham. It's a big city, large like this one. Just as deranged. [Maybe not. This place was just about sex and lies and power dynamics. There aren't loonies in white face blowing up the bridges.] Where do you come from, Orpheus?