You clearly don't know much about me if you're claiming that.

[And that statement seemed to be opposite from what he could tell and the little bits that he was starting to remember. Also the whole gigantic birthday spread he had put on for Moira; he was an excellent host, and he'd murder anyone who would continually claim otherwise.

He remained at the counter, but his eyes followed Jesse as he moved to the fridge and back, keeping his arms loosely crossed over his chest. He ignored the glass poured for him right now, too close for brownies being done to feel the need to move from his spot.]

You do recall that I don't have many memories, yes? What you're saying makes little sense to me other than an impression here and there.

[He was smart enough to put aspects of his deaths together, since he remembered all of those very clearly.]