Know now that I'm forever dirt.

Tic's breathing stuttered as he looked upon the map, a gloved hand holding him threateningly beneath the chin, along his throat. I'm sorry, he thought bitterly, as his hand lifted from the chair. It passed through the air, slowly, moving with a slight quiver. The quill was slipped between his fingers, dabbed black at the tip; ready to reveal the information, ready to betray. I'm sorry, he thought, but I can't fight this time.

The thought of Miraye being hurt because of him had struck sharply, breaking all hopes of defiance. It was a confirmation -- that he truly was taken; trapped in Larkin's scheme, Larkin's desire -- and he could not escape. A numb acceptance had begun to grow, dull and staid, forcing him into its embrace.

He let his hand hover for a moment, squinting through blurred vision, eyes scanning over the map. They finally rested upon the areas to be exploited, so helpless to his quill. Hesitating, he let its tip onto the parchment, and began to drag it. The ink bled onto the page, thin and black, slowly revealing the underground cities to hungry eyes. Moments passed, until the map was marked by five trembling circles.

Holding the quill's tip at the edge of his final revelation, he paused. He stared on numbly at the map, now viled with his betrayal. Strange thoughts came to him, produced by fear, as he began to raise the quill to the bottle. An impatient hand took it from his thin grasp, returning it for him, as he slowly let his own hand fall. The other gloved hand began to slide from his neck, but paused as Tic suddenly pressed his fingertips upon it.

If only to endear Larkin, and not suffer his anger, was Tic's motive. He felt fear of the man, an acute fear now for disapproval; punishment. Larkin had seemed angered by the refusal of his affection, but Tic could not help his truth. If only to persuade him now, to create trust, would he be able to possibly get away and warn them. He didn't want to do it, not at all, but fear drove him on; fear for himself, for Miraye. If he could just play along, pretend...

Eyes downcast, he gently guided the gloved hand to cup his cheek, as it had been so doing before. His eyelids quivered gently, then fell shut, as he turned his head. He let his cheek stroke against the man's palm, slowly lowering his head along it with false affection, stifling tears with closed eyes.