[ It's minute, but Lelouch's lips twist into something akin to a grimace before his features relax, giving Gilgamesh a look of almost casual indifference, although his eyes, sharp, narrowed, calculating, speak otherwise.

He does not like being called a mongrel - it reminds him too much of the Britannian court and the disdain that they use to refer to Numbers.

Also, colour him highly unimpressed. Privately, Lelouch thinks that Gilgamesh is nothing like how a king should be. At the seat opposite him, Gilgamesh does not look refined in the slightest.

But then again, he's good at playing deferential, after his first, costly mistake. He inclines his head slightly. ]

Only if you give me information about yours. If your whims have aligned in my favour, I highly doubt a one-sided exchange of information would be beneficial to us both, no?

[ Phrased as a challenge. One of the things Lelouch has figured out about Gilgamesh. He likes to rise to challenges. ]

I am a prince that was abandoned by his Empire. [ A small, bitter smirk, a mocking sweep of his hand. ] The eldest son of the late consort Marianne and 17th in line to the imperial throne of the Holy Empire of Britannia, Lelouch vi Britannia, at your service.