Aimlessly twisty conversation still in progress!
"--And is the evening wear really mandatory?"
He looks blankly and politely enquiring.
Margolotta snorts. "No, boy. I just wished to be sure you vere paying attention."
She sighs, and waves a hand at a chair.
"Sit down, there's obviously nothing the matter with your memory."
He does so, sliding into the chair with what she can only suppose is rebellious lack of grace and watches her. She eyes him back. That look could be really rather unsettling, with work, she concedes. Perhaps they will work on it some time.
"So," she says, deliberate and thoughtful. "You brought a strange boy with you, who appears to vish for nothing more than to tear my throat out vith his teeth, or at least to make a constant nuisance of himself. How did you manage it, and vhy?"
Havelock folds his arms, and regards her in silence as she walks closer, staring at him as if her gaze can drill into his mind and find out what he's thinking.
It's not too far from the truth, he recalls uncomfortably; catches himself, and starts blandly reciting Klatchian vocabulary in his head. The logic of language is calming to the thoughts - a little like white noise, he hopes.
Margolotta sighs in mild irritation.
"Vhat is he?"
The question whips out, loud in the confined stone room, and hard against his mind, but Havelock had been expecting that since he entered the room, and says nothing, reciting a textbook description of belladonna in his head instead.
It's getting easier to stay calm, and keep his thoughts his own. Certainly easier than before he was changed, although that comes as no surprise. If he dislikes the necessity, he will still find the advantages in this.
She smiles, after a moment, hard and twisted to one side, but reluctantly pleased.
"He has certainly focused your mind, I vill give him that," she says. "All right, keep him if you must. But don't expect me to stop you if you drink from him. He is not vun of my townspeople, I place no particular value on his life."
Havelock nods once, and tries not to shudder at the memory. It's galling to admit that he still needs her to physically stop him killing helpless people, whether they be man, woman or child.
"I won't," he says, low and quiet.
He looks blankly and politely enquiring.
Margolotta snorts. "No, boy. I just wished to be sure you vere paying attention."
She sighs, and waves a hand at a chair.
"Sit down, there's obviously nothing the matter with your memory."
He does so, sliding into the chair with what she can only suppose is rebellious lack of grace and watches her. She eyes him back. That look could be really rather unsettling, with work, she concedes. Perhaps they will work on it some time.
"So," she says, deliberate and thoughtful. "You brought a strange boy with you, who appears to vish for nothing more than to tear my throat out vith his teeth, or at least to make a constant nuisance of himself. How did you manage it, and vhy?"
Havelock folds his arms, and regards her in silence as she walks closer, staring at him as if her gaze can drill into his mind and find out what he's thinking.
It's not too far from the truth, he recalls uncomfortably; catches himself, and starts blandly reciting Klatchian vocabulary in his head. The logic of language is calming to the thoughts - a little like white noise, he hopes.
Margolotta sighs in mild irritation.
"Vhat is he?"
The question whips out, loud in the confined stone room, and hard against his mind, but Havelock had been expecting that since he entered the room, and says nothing, reciting a textbook description of belladonna in his head instead.
It's getting easier to stay calm, and keep his thoughts his own. Certainly easier than before he was changed, although that comes as no surprise. If he dislikes the necessity, he will still find the advantages in this.
She smiles, after a moment, hard and twisted to one side, but reluctantly pleased.
"He has certainly focused your mind, I vill give him that," she says. "All right, keep him if you must. But don't expect me to stop you if you drink from him. He is not vun of my townspeople, I place no particular value on his life."
Havelock nods once, and tries not to shudder at the memory. It's galling to admit that he still needs her to physically stop him killing helpless people, whether they be man, woman or child.
"I won't," he says, low and quiet.