Katurian suppresses a laugh, the kind of laugh that rolls out of his throat when nothing is truly funny, not even to his drug-addled mind. Normally the laugh sounds like a bark, but with the way he swallows it right now, it sounds more like a burp. A gulp.

"You poor thing," he says darkly, and then he laughs for real, the barriers lifted, the floodgates opened. His anger dissipates like storm clouds disappearing into a too sunny sky. Katurian is mercurial even on his better days, but today his mood swings back and forth like a demented rocking horse. "You're so frightened."

He whispers the words like a precious secret, the laughter still in his voice.