I want to be pretty.

Larkin almost nodded for Tic, lifting his own head slightly, but stopping as the boy slowly turned his head to the left, then to the right, and to the left once again. The man’s lip curled and he stood straight, shifting his eyes aside and breaking the connection. He turned away, rubbing his temples gently. You’re so stupid, he accused himself, when you lose control like that. But his attention was back on Tic before the boy had time to regain his natural flow of thoughts. Larkin grabbed the sides of the chair, and spun it back around to face the desk. He leaned against it, over Tic, his hair falling in waves over the boy. He pointed a finger towards the map that lay on the desk, waiting to be touched, made into something important.

With his other hand, he grabbed Tic’s throat, right below his chin and forced him to look at the parchment.

“You’re going to mark the places where I can find the largest colonies,” he ordered, waiting for Tic to take the quill in his hand. Seconds passed, and with each Larkin grew more dangerous and increasingly impatient. Persuasion had done nothing to Tic; he had not been easily seduced. Even though it disappointed Larkin, he was no longer worried. Another idea had entered his head and it was better than the last two he had ruined.

“It would be...” Larkin began, as he reached toward the quill and pulled it out, gently tapping it against the bottle to remove excess ink, “... in the best of interest of Miraye if you would do me this small favor.” He cleared his throat and squeezed Tic’s throat, just a little more, and whispered, “It would be a pity if something just awful was to happen...”