He craves neither kindness nor empathy. It is spite that gives him comfort, and her question might well be pearls indeed for how it prompts a twisted rise at the edge of his mouth. Bitter and satisfied all at once.

“It did. And he suffers for it still.”

A gloved palm then scrapes through his hair, flattening the edged ridge near the peak of his forehead. A strangely human gesture.

“Have you finished? Was it enough for you?”