I do not answer his question of why. Why do I ever do anything, except for my own ends? But when he says he is a monster my mouth curves into a smile, and I deliver the final blow.
"Westin Sagert loved monsters," I say. "He collected them, after a fashion. He might have loved you for your monstrosity." I stroke a fingertip across his cheek. "Imagine what that might have been like. But instead," and my voice is all regret, "he was butchered, and left in a shallow grave." I smile. "You may leave now, Foxton Manqueller. I do not think we will meet again. But I thank you for the work you have done, and will do."
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Date: 2014-01-03 01:46 pm (UTC)"Westin Sagert loved monsters," I say. "He collected them, after a fashion. He might have loved you for your monstrosity." I stroke a fingertip across his cheek. "Imagine what that might have been like. But instead," and my voice is all regret, "he was butchered, and left in a shallow grave." I smile. "You may leave now, Foxton Manqueller. I do not think we will meet again. But I thank you for the work you have done, and will do."