"A whole life poured into the man, and the best you will claim is that he sees a blade."
"He sees what stands here. A kinder answer would only be a lie the two of us could name on sight."
Moses had nothing to set against that, and the lack of it chafed, because Caelum had handed him nothing to break. The man had always been built this way — a blade locked in its sheath, taking insult and threat and flattery alike as so much weather sliding off cold stone. Moses had cracked open monsters that gave him more to work with.
The door stayed dead in its frame.
Moses rolled his shoulders and pulled a low grind from his armor. "How long do you reckon he means to leave us standing out here?"
"As long as it suits him, and not a breath less. The door has never once opened faster for a man's impatience."
"That answer earns a fist somewhere soft."
"Most accurate answers do, in your company. You have a habit of swinging at the messenger the instant the message bores you."
