[ By's fingers card gently through his hair. Hatred was something that came easily to him when he was a young man - after all, hatred was something as Vorish as wine and dueling. He hated those who trespassed against his honor, with honor a thing defined broadly and shaped as needed to justify that hate. As he aged, hatred came with more and more difficulty; even in these extraordinary circumstances, even with all the things done to him here, he can't think of any person he's come to truly hate.

Except Louis, of course. He wishes he could go up and disconnect his cryo-chamber. Let him thaw, let him curdle. That son of a bitch - ]

I'm relieved he's not there, too. If he were anywhere in my proximity, I'd be obligated to challenge him to a duel.

[ He doesn't let go of Prior - leans into him, to try to see if the bit of levity lets him relax a bit. ]

And it would be the worst duel of my life. Me chasing him about waving my sword, him yelping and trying to scramble away...