Exton

Mortuis leaves Keon with me after a brief introduction. Truthfully, I couldn't care less who he was, but the old man likes the little courtesies, so I humor him.

I lead Keon into the room where the rogue shifter is sitting - as he has for several hours of nonstop questioning - at a table, on a straight-backed wooden chair. He sees me come in and I know he's wondering how sturdy that chair is: can he smash it and salvage a piece of wood big enough to use as a stake, and then stake me before I rip out his throat?

I smile at him, letting him know that I know what he's considering; and then I shake my head no. "You're not nearly good enough," I say flatly. "Mortuis thinks you're more use to us alive than dead, God knows why, so he's sent a 'friend' to try to talk some sense into you." The subtle emphasis on the word "friend" leaves no doubt of what I think their real relationship is. Let asswipe think there's dissension in the ranks; he might get stupid.

Well... stupider.

"Keon, he's all yours. Let me know when you're tired of him and I'll take over." With that, I sit back in another chair, leaning back with my feet on the table. Keon has the floor.