Raven smiled.
It was a small smile. Thin. The smile of a man who has been asked to leave and who finds the request charming. Naive. The smile of a man who knows he will not leave and who knows that the old man knows it too.
"Aren't you a good grandfather?" he said. The words were warm. Genuine. The words of a man who recognizes sacrifice and is, in his own way, moved by it. "Though I will. But I want something from you."
Old Tomas trembled.
"What— what can I give?" he said. His voice was shaking. His hands were shaking. His knees were shaking. Everything was shaking. He was an old man standing before a devil, and the devil was asking for something, and the old man had nothing to give.
"Teach me," Raven said. "How to massage the queen. Or a woman."
Old Tomas's eyes narrowed.
