I'll do anything for you.

Lark merely gave Miraye’s insane murmurings a glance, and intently listened to Tic. It was the fact that Tic was telling him of his own free will that excited Larkin, not the pain, tears or blood. In fact, those things made him scrunch up his nose in displeasure.

“Yes,” he urged Tic on, “Rancors, in the middle of the...? The continen-what? The world? To the exact pinpoint?” His eyes sparkled madly, and a great relief washed over him. So he would be able to get plenty out of the boy. There had been a small doubt, but it now vanished completely. He smiled and reached out, gently touching Tic’s cheek with his fingertips, “Not so hard, was it? Now shush, let me think.”

As his hand returned to him, he wiped the tears from his glove on a clean area of Tic’s shirt. He turned his head slowly to Miraye, and looked at her, his face bathed in puzzlement, “Rabbits?” he asked. He stroked his chin gently and gave a soft sigh. She was a rumbling nutcase, and what could he do with that? He stared at her as her eyes rolled back into her head, as if following something that wasn’t really there. His expression slowly changed from confusion to disgust, and he shook his head, lowering his eyes to the dirty stone floor. The tiny daggers of his glove silently disappeared, back into hiding.

Should he press on? Or were they exhausted and aching from their unfortunate situations? Certainly Tic was. The dear, cooperative thing. He smiled, and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He crossed his ankles and finally spoke, “Why are you bleeding, Tic?”