[In all fairness, the composure chafes slightly when Hermione turns the conversation back around on him. What did he want? Well, he wanted a great many things and wanted to use a great many people to get them, but that's not quite what she's asking. In fact, she's less asking a question and more protecting herself. This is the lionness who has seen her suitor and raises haunches in defense. It is not necessarily a no, but as with anything involving beasts, it could turn very sour very fast.

As with all great yet delicate things, Hermione must be handled carefully. One wrong move will have that box smashed back into his face, and then he's starting over from scratch... and likely in an entirely different venue, thanks to how quickly word spread throughout the Citadel.

Gilgamesh considers a lie. He considers the truth. Ultimately, what he settles for and what he offers her rests somewhere in between. But even if it isn't entirely truthful, it isn't entirely dispassionate, either. For now, he means what he says, at least in part.]

I believe we may help each other to be at peace, together, in that intimate way.

[Gilgamesh will keep her company, stave off loneliness. Hermione will advance him to further power, make gains in throwing Saber down the deepest, darkest well for good. Mutual benefit. Mutual belonging. Mutual peace.

...maybe that actually is the truth. Sometimes Gilgamesh lies so much, he forgets what the truth actually looks like.]

I believe... you understand me. And I understand you. And that we may make strides forward based upon that understanding. [Laughing to himself:] And that I will read to you whenever you like, and tell you stories, so you shall not have reason for sadness ever again, for my Epic is surely the best tale. For we make excellent company, and that is the long and short of what I want.

[And that's not all a lie, either. Part of it, even just a little, had indeed been fun. He'll remember it.]