Sephiroth pulls back the proffered bag of onions at that snapped 'no'; there's a faint hint that, if he had elf ears of his own, now his would be drooping. His efforts here just seem to be going from bad to worse in terms of results. He's not sure which feels worse - not knowing what he's doing wrong, or having no idea what would be right.

"I...wasn't trying to talk down to you," he says, after a moment's pause. Mithrun's trying to soften his response belatedly at least assures him the elf isn't angry with him, but he's still become more upset rather than less so the feelings that Sephiroth is failing haven't abated at all. "I simply thought that...perhaps both you and Angeal could be made happy. That's objectively better than only making Angeal happy, isn't it?"

A beat. "Though if you wished to win for competitive reasons, then I suppose that I can't help with that."