[ It's perversely satisfying to get under Vincent's skin a little even when Krouse is trying to walk himself back too. He can't help being the person he is, and maybe that's knowing at least some of his own limitations.

He likes making people react. Watching Vincent do something like Krouse is - sliding the live, sharp edge of a different response back into the metaphorical sleeve - kind of makes him start to respect the guy in some minorly fucked up way he's not going to dwell on. Vincent's letting Krouse get away with it, not just being some smiling pious pushover. ]

As long as it makes you happy.

[ It's almost a joke, almost another little dig, mostly a concession. If the hippie religion Vincent follows (Krouse is picturing beaded curtains and lava lamps in dens with books that feature psychedelic art on the covers, as a vibe) gets him by, this is one of those 'live and let wish he wasn't forcibly resurrected' type situations. ]

That's probably enough theology for today, though, huh? Not the kind of thing that goes well with canapes.

Thank you for indulging me anyway. I hope you won't hold it against me.

[ Krouse would, so he's not especially attached to the request. The point is setting up the opportunity for the polite lie. ]