It is indeed all the same to him. "Alright," Zagreus says agreeably, and sets to thinking of a good word. It's hard to choose, when you don't have any underlying history of needling your opponent and don't know anything about them. Ought he to choose a long word, or short? One would appear unkind but be a blessing in disguise; a short word might look like she's caught a break but just lessens the chance that she'll guess correct letters. He looks to the chimaera for inspiration, but it remains as unhelpfully unreal as ever, and he clicks his tongue to himself, tapping his chin in thought, before hurrying to draw his lines and gallows. "Guess away."

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