Now he was picking up those subtle signals -- subtle like a supposedly-friendly imp who wants the seemingly tiniest of favors and proclaims you'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.

He held up an open hand, to put a halt to that line. "I'm not going to pry," he said, as gently as he could -- not unlike wrapping a blade in a thick blanket, it remains weighty and metal inside even as it bumped its victim gently instead of slicing them apart. "But the excuses... don't become you."