[ Rafa watches with dispassion. There's something almost alien about it, watching these things take place, hearing these words, watching the distress of this person. He knows how much it would have affected him before. There's a part of him that's waiting for the tug on his heartstrings that would always have pulled him towards Hunter. Instead, he feels empty.

But Hunter is far from empty. Rafa can see emotion written all over his face; upset, pain, worry, frustration, all of it. More than anything else, the disgust he feels for the show of power he's witnessing – for the thralls, in particular. Rafa had only just told him not to hurt them, but that had been expediency. They were newly made, and he'd invested time and blood in them.

Still. Like all humans, they're disposable. There's certainly more where they came from, and now he thinks he'll test his lover's resolve. ]

I never have liked being carried. [ He says, conversationally, and lifts his finger. Three of the thralls come at once to place themselves between Hunter and Rafa. ]

Escort my husband out now. He wants to go home.

[ The thralls advance, while Rafa, interested, leans forward in his chair. A smile stretches across his face while he watches. Watching him kill them to get to Rafa might be entertaining. Rafa lives in hope. ]