[And at this distance, with Dion's lens closed upon him, he may note that he is without gloves. While one arm is crossed over his middle and tucked into his chest above his obi, the one around his shoulders has the sleeve slipping down, breezy fabric revealing the mottled skin of his petrification. He doesn't even seem worried about it.]

What's the point if we don't let ourselves get a little raucous? What was that little ditty? Right- "Dion the Bold". I'll have you singing by the end of the night with me, else we ain't doing it right.