[ He goes and chances a sip from the fancy teacup in spite of prior sass, making a brief face at the elaboration of his name if not the liquid itself. ]

Okay, and I came out all this way and had to play dodgeball with My Little Poltergeist back there, so humour me for half a sec, will ya.

[ He sets the cup down, considers the question, then settles on; ]

It's my heart. Kind of.

[ He taps the centre of his chest, where she's inevitably glimpsed the circular glow that lives there, mostly obscured now in thicker winter fabrics. ]

Heart-adjacent.