Not a human death. It had fantastical implications, if he dared dream them up. He was reminded of his more modest soul, again, in the face of the morbid decadence she represented. He was experiencing such hypocrisy in himself, wanting to protect her - it was the kind of exterior he'd wanted, after all - and planning to ruin her. If she wanted it, it could not be wrong. But violence is always wrong, that is why it has to offer such tantalization to survive in the human heart.<br/><br/>And she wanted it as much as she'd loved his touch. What a rich answer, in her body. It made him feel like some kind of titan, drawing her sheen like that. She didn't choose to speak, but it seemed her color and shadows shifted to invite him, every time he looked. She was perfectly efficient at lulling his haughtier moralist to sleep even though he wanted to discuss all this. So when she asked her question, borrowed from him, it sounded as it should, like an offer. Restraint, in an attempt to preserve itself, had him take a step back, like she was going to eat all of it, licking her soaked tongue and smelling like flowers and flesh at the same time.<br/><br/>It was endearing then, when instead of all those dangerous, sweet lures in her, he found camaraderie, when her annoyance swelled at their interruption. He placed a hand on her shoulder when she searched for his side. Greta only seemed pleased by all this. He wondered what would not please the human woman, and if he should put some pressure on her superiors and expose her to it. Perhaps Kedrick had not used his influence like that before, but it was a little like owning a great weapon without speculating what it could do.<br/><br/>Greta was of course accommodating. It was her main function, within reason. He was given the key to this chamber, which was an unusual design, same principals in place as was the base for Iris, he guessed, and then he could lead Iris out of the only world she'd known. Her pace was remarkably synchronous with his own footfalls. Greta followed them at a small distance. Seeing Iris's history in the glass felt more relevant on the way out. Their car had parked intimately to the entrance now. Privacy, for the people who were affluent, but not beyond the opinion of the masses.<br/><br/>They had offered lacquered means of containment, in wood, but while he could see the symmetry in aesthetic, he'd rather not transport her like a plant. Instead he made sure she was seated comfortably in the back with him, as the silent driver took them out on the road. Once he had his belt on, not even lingering on his impulse not to make sure she was safe, also, he reached to brush the buds where he'd spent her crown. He didn't feel guilty because she didn't seem like she was in pain.<br/><br/>"What should I do with you today, then, Iris?" as he carefully tugged at a sprout. They looked natural in the light through the window. Despite being of roots and vines, Iris was something of a sunless flower, wasn't she? Still, the sun wasn't out of place on her. "What do I want?" he continued, touching her upper lip with some distant curiosity. He asked the question for himself, slightly desperate, like staring at vast menu, but her blood rushed to know exactly what the real answer should be.<br/><br/>Lingering disdain for Greta, perhaps, or some other, repressed, familiar faces. Causing pain had been introduced in him today, like she into soil, and it was growing fast into his preferences.