"A compromise," he repeated, as though the very word left a sour taste in his mouth-- or a gap where a tooth should be. Or I could just take you out of the equation, like I did Sanderson. Why compromise when you can make all the rules?

And he did consider it, very seriously for several moments. But he didn't know the full extent of his abilities just yet, beyond the ability to still summon the nightmare sand while Fearlings hissed and slathered in the back of his mind, hungry and seething at being restrained.

"I find that doubtful but I am listening."

No promises either way, but he would at least not interrupt. Probably.