"You did more than enough," Garrett says, startled, and only after saying it does he realize how it might sound.

"Out of all of that. I couldn't have done it without you. I mean that sincerely, I know it's hard to tell." He glances away then, aware that too much riveting eye contact is--they've been over it, in a roundabout way, and Garrett tends to agree with Anders' belief it'd be nothing but disaster. With him or anyone else. Champion or not, he's an apostate. There's not much future in that.

"Anyway. If you really want to apologize for something, it should be for accusing me of monstrous vanity. I can assure you I'm not like whatever clotheshorse you follow around." He flashes a smile he hopes is somewhat winning, or at least lifts the mood. "What year are you from, then? Can you give me some gambling predictions?"