Cold. Uncommonly so, something to wrap his jaws around later; it gives him a problem, a puzzle, something to worm over in the days ahead. Picking apart that potential will be a far more delectable thing than any bit of egg and spice.

Albus doubts that he'll like the possibilities, no more than Graham plainly (dis)likes him. But they've already spoken of means and ends, and his ends are already well-decided -- Graham is sharp, he is a almost annoyingly perspicacious, and he has been set upon the proper path to make that of use. It's the measure of the man that blooms interesting now, and the means of handling him.

"For the best," He grants. "Until then, Mr. Graham."