At that, the Brucolac manages to incorporate his whole body into rolling his eyes, throwing his head back (along with its slightly frosty mane) as if to address his mild exasperation to the very stars.

"Piss and ichor, doesn't it tire you out, thinking in circles?"

As if he doesn't do much the same, though to brag about it after...well. There's a flash of an overly-toothy smile on his face. "And if that doesn't fucking exhaust you, doesn't spelling it all out? Camaraderie between the spires varies, but I don't believe there's any outright animosity between barons, not currently."