Duck Lake are you worth your weight in gold, cause you're behind my eyelids when i'm all alone

conflicted, succinct; mahler found himself wary of alarian in the next moments. however, his stoic features impressed none of this; he remained with gaze trained on his companion, silent. pensive. yes to his question; rejection of mateship as a concept. perhaps it was age, or ill experience. mahler did not know, but realized he had come to quite a conundrum. 
and so the musiker settled stubbornly into the tract of each literal thought being spoken aloud. perhaps it was to alarian's chagrin, though it was to mahler's relief, and annoyance. "i am not a physical being. it has been ... many years." that his interludes had been with those of the feminine persuasion was of little account to mahler, for what he wished to impress was not his preference.
"i have little desire for such things, and vould make a poor bedfellow indeed," the brute went on, some flash of self-deprecating humour lighting the stilted planes of his face for a moment.