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[viking_seer]

"Anderson here. Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks."

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[hostileterritory]

He doesn't know what it is about Saga's eyes that manages to be both comforting and unsettling at once. They're the kind of beautiful that comes from watching strafing fire on the horizon.

He studies his fingertips, mentally contrasting the feel of Caleb's hair with the pressure of his hands on Caleb's throat. "So I could kill him."

[viking_seer]

"And the reason you haven't turned it back on, since then?"

Quiet. Careful.

[hostileterritory]

A long pause. "No reason to."

[viking_seer]

"And why do you think that?"

[hostileterritory]

He folds his hands over each other, squeezes them briefly, goes back to small restless motion.

"No one around to know I'd ever been different."

[viking_seer]

"What about for you?" she says quietly, "what about for you... getting to feel it when Hanna does something nice for you? Or enjoy a meal down to your toes. Feel rested or exhausted. All those things that you look forward to o-or you dread or you get to enjoy. All those things. You deserve to feel things, Henry. For you."

[hostileterritory]

He looks at her sidelong. His posture doesn't change, but there's something in his face that reads clear as day, no Seer Powers needed:

Do I?

No malice in the thought, no particular shame. A weighing of the facts. Consideration for the things he's done.

He shrugs a shoulder.

[viking_seer]

And she looks back at him, one eyebrow just a little raised as if to say 'I said what I said and you know I know what you've done.'

"Something to think about, maybe?"