He was torn, wrenched around inside his own head, and his facial expressions reflected the variety that his mind was contriving up on a platter. Take your pick, ladies, because there was a buffet to pick up on. He paced around in a circle like some sort of caged beast as his face worked through whatever inner turmoil he had to work with, then with an exasperated groan, he sunk down into the armchair caddy corner to the couch that Lane had sat down on.<br/><br/><br/>His hands pressed forward against either side of his face, creating a mask as he peered at both women in his living room, then finally clapped both hands down onto his thighs and released the breath he had been holding.<br/><br/><br/>“Loverboy doesn’t trust anyone or anything who takes fairy logic into consideration when running a rogue supernatural organization intent on playing police when what she really wants - what she really wants - is to just be in control on the things on this side of the veil. I don’t know if you ladies ever read any fairy tales when you were little girls in pink frills -- or, you know, Shakespeare in college -- but that old Renaissance poet knew something about something when he starts in about fae kind manipulating humans. They just don’t play by the same rules when they make deals. It’s not like what you learn in economics class, where you can write up a contract, exchange some cash, and make a business deal that, if the other party screws you over, you can bring in lawyers and the law to make it all better. No, a fairy bargain means you have to pay really. Close. Attention. ..to wording, ladies, or you might just be -- I don’t know -- out of a womb, or your first born, or your eyes, tongue, loved ones… you could become an eternal servant. And God--” He made the sign of the cross over his chest and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling “--help us all, if you try and get out of a fae deal, you get exactly what you have coming for you. For me, I asked for someone to be saved, then tried to save myself and make a counter deal… a long, long time ago. Very long time ago. And had to make a deal with probably something just as bad in order to survive. So don’t agree to do things for an organization that is run by a fucking fairy, even though she’s made out to be some sort of goddamn fairy godmother and has a bunch of minions whose smile can make a woman’s pussy wet just from a look.”<br/><br/><br/>He swallowed another breath of air. But at least his words were finally becoming precise. His eyes steered from Lane, to her friend Nora, then centered back on Lane once more. “Sorry, Lane, but I steered you away from me so that you wouldn’t be suckered into something like a deal with the Syndicate. Somehow--” And this time he shot a blatant look at Nora. “They managed to wrangle you in anyhow. So let me tell you the scenario that will occur once you leave my apartment with your grandmother’s book. You might think that you’re going to take it home, salute the day that you left me behind, and you can continue on with your life. Or you might give your book to the Syndicate and think that they’re done with you, that it’s just that simple. Until they come to your door again with an ultimatum and start asking you to do things that you really, really don’t want to do. They got me with Remy, too,” he grinned around the words. “Because that son of a bitch actually believes the words that come out of his own mouth. Only he can’t really help it. He’s tethered to his precious leader; she made him, it’s not his fault. It’s like the kind of loyalty a son has to his mother. Even though you don’t agree with her, you support her anyway, because she’s Mommy.”<br/><br/><br/>Once more, his gaze turned to Nora, looking out the window. “You have stories about them, don’t you?”<br/><br/><br/>It’s a rhetorical question. Don’t answer it. Shaking his head, he dragged himself from the chair and turned away. Grinning like the Joker himself from the old Batman comics, he cast a sidelong look at Lane, looked away, and paced toward his bedroom. He disappeared into the dark room for a few beats, then re-emerged cradling the grimoire.<br/><br/><br/>“I’m going to give this to you. Then you can make your own judgement, since you apparently have already, regarding how I feel. Or you can give me a chance to be upfront. And rather than help me, you can help my kid. I’ll die and become my own personal narcissistic martyr, but Mia doesn’t deserve to be used like a pawn by them. You see, she was created by her mother and myself to be a magical conduit, only we made a mistake. She’s got a lot of raw power; that’s appealing to the Syndicate. But if she uses it, especially in extreme capacities, her body can’t handle it. She’ll die.”