[ He hissed between his teeth. Whether it's for the half-accusation, or for the question, he doesn't rightfully care. All of it incenses him, doesn't it? It's half because he's a drukhari, and half because he is this drukhari. His fingers tighten for a split-second, too tight, before he regains control, and slackens his grip. ]

You think me incapable? That I will hold back, or find some reason that I shouldn't?

[ He likes this too much. The struggle of it. The way he fights against his hand, against everything. He could hold him down, too, but Heinrix didn't think he needed to. He didn't want to. He wanted the fight in him, it made it so much better. ]

I always wondered something. The Magos Biologis Sharle Darvus once thought that there was something to your ears. Did you know that?

[ He didn't have to touch them, he just had to spark the nerves to life, painful, but not blindingly so. The gentlest he'd been today.

It is not gentle at all. ]

I wondered about some of his theories.

[ His lips curled into the first smile since walking into the chapel. As if the possibility of a new discovery would make this worth it. ]