It would be a terrible shame if he got so cold that certain parts of his anatomy didn't represent him to the fullest. Still, he's also suspicious that the Detective isn't being entirely honest in her desire for a truce, and he can't even ask his questions to find out.

"Swear on your child's insatiable need for chocolate cake," he insists, not willing to trust her entirely just yet. There could be an icy dagger waiting to stab him in the back, or, more likely, to slither down his spine and nestle between his arse.