Herbalists' Cache i who have always been unbecoming am becoming un

samothes cannot read the man's expression, does not know how to predict his next moves. his mind whirrs but comes up with nothing -- something he has craved. how long has it been? he swallows, feeling the abused muscles of his throat flex painfully. it will heal too quickly.

"gregory," he lies easily, the name coming into his mouth without a second thought. he does not want this man to know his real name. there is power in real names, isn't there? or maybe he just wants to keep this game going longer, give him a reason to get himself hurt. "now yours," he says again, demand dropped for a plea that stops just short of amused, trying to find something in those distant, beady eyes.