Green grass breaks through snow, Artemis pleads for my help

Lancelot speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully. "I spoke of this wish Sagramore, but am curious as to whether thou hast any other knowledge," he's including Apollo in this, though he's not really making eye contact with either of them. "Laertes once asked me what sort of man heats my blood, and I found it difficult to answer. I think perhaps no one does, unless I know them well enough to feel comfortable -- I don't even really think of it, otherwise. Sagramore says that is not strange, but it doesn't seem to be common, here at least."