"I see no reason not to," said Caster. Getting to his feet was a painful experience to watch - elbows that could not hold weight, knees that no longer fully bent - but with his staff and stubborn pride he clawed his way to a standing position. 
"It could be a trap," said Adam swiftly. "The glitch might -"
Caster barked a laugh. "I may be a famously bad judge of character, Adam, but I do not believe this girl would murder a turkey sandwich."
The machine clicked. "She is Berserker's master. You underestimate her at your peril."
"Peril?" said Caster. "Then let it come. My plans will not be stopped, nor will Lancer. My role in this war is over and my curiosity to see its ending is no greater than my curiosity to see this festival. But just to satisfy your paranoia - Berserker? Here is my head. Take it, if you wish."
Berseker growled twice. Growled - twice? That second one sounded different, and left her embarrassed rather than violent. Caster looked at her, and laughed. "Hungry, are you? Ms. Fluffybiscuits, shame on you for not feeding your servant. No wonder her will to fight is so weak."