"Well, obviously it's because I can't jus..." Saurous begins, before trailing off once he realizes what Moon's saying. He gives her a dumbfounded stare, the terrified stare of a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming tractor-trailer. It's amazing how simple things like this can utterly ruin his imperturbability in ways that throttling a shoggoth could not. His surprise is punctuated by a final resonating pulse of energy.
The necromancer regains his composure commendably quickly, comforted somewhat by Moon's sardonic smirk. Hopefully she won't jump down his throat if he flubs his explanation. "Well, you know that I've been trained in magic practically since birth, right?" he begins, placing the remaining diamond fragments off to the side of the tray. "With that comes some level of perfectionism and...a bit of a hang-up on rituals. I always feel like important events like...that need to have some sort of massive significance behind them, some sort of associated event that makes it perfect. I just haven't found that perfect moment yet."
He pauses for a moment to pour water into his little concoction, forming a small pool of glittering red ink in the bowl.
"There's also the fact that I unleashed the vengeful spirit of a pavilion structure with a deep-seated hatred of all love onto the world, but that could probably be mitigated by staying the hell away from gazebos."