[He drops the blade abruptly, pushing himself up from the basin and away from Gale. His voice is suddenly sharp and angry, his hands cutting through the air as he gestures.]

Oh, a lovely hypothetical to sate your curiosity, is it? What kind of conversation would it be, between a son two hundred years dead and the mother who never spared him a second thought even when he lived.

I wouldn't have a conversation with her, Gale. I can't even remember her name.