"I am going to ask you this one more time, changeling. I suggest you answer truthfully for your own sake," he whispered to the one whose neck was clamped in his right hand grip. He didn't even need to exert himself much to ensure they stayed in place. He was Handy the Milesian after all, the Heartless, the Pale One, the one who none of these little bastards could so much as sense an ethereal whiff of before it was too late. You could therefore understand their reasonable terror when he just fucking Predator'd them out of the darkness. They stayed right the fuck where they were, eyelids closed and facing away.