[She opens her eyes and he is still there, his expression closed, his heartbeat measured and even, his fingertips numb. The skin at the back of his neck prickles with a slow kind of electricity, a familiar dangerous hum, and part of him strains towards it like being called home through the dark. His stomach turns, but he doesn't move, because he may not have meant to be here but now he is and he has had to learn what to do with that.

Christo christo, christo he snarls in his head, but his teeth and his lips don't move. He won't tip his hand, and anyway, she showed him the key of solomon around her neck his first day here. She's powerful, if he's right - in ways he doesn't understand, in ways he must understand before he moves, because wrapped this deep in her territory there is only one way to succeed and that is to strike hard, fast, and sure.

He breathes out, watches her go back to work, and shakes his head.]

And what about when your fellow wardens find out? That you're wearing some of their teeth?

[That's the other thing, the peculiar thrilling horror of walking among people knowing she's responsible for their death, that they could find out at any moment and tjey outnumber her, would do god knows what to her. The particular detached anxiety that he is both desperate to share, and terrified that he will. What about when your peers find out that you're a traitor?]