He wants... Really He wants to reclaim that sort of visage? Light, Zandros can only imagine. He's left staring, rude though it may be, at his own reflection in another man's face.

Hunter wants that again? To be cursed? To be twisted?

Zandros looks down at the table, at his own fist, and says nothing. Not at first, anyway. Not for a long while.

Eventually he asks simply, "Why?"