[ Does he think highly of Sampo? Hm… … …. ]

I'll tell you what I really think. [ A poke to Sampo's forehead, weighty enough to send his head back. ] It's that you think too much, aaaaaand that I'm too unbothered to try and keep up with you. If I'm wrong? I'm wrong. No water off my back. Just how much do you want me to know you, Mister Koski?

[ Or, how much does he not want him to know him? Which would he find more amusing? Elysium thinks he'd find elation in both right and wrong, and so he delivers. In half-measure. It's hard not to taunt Sampo when he willingly matches every step of his dance beat for beat. As fun as it is to pull others in and force them to match his rhythm, or leave them stumbling along in his wake—theirs is dance unlike one he's experienced before, that leaves him wondering how much longer they'll be able to keep it up. ]

But, I'll give you that. I'd rather not be predictable. Still, I'd maintain I'm a simple guy. Because on the flipside? If I had to pick a role for myself… I'd probably be one of the actors. How does that sound?

[ There's no right or wrong here, either, his curiosity in how he chooses to answer by itself. ]