Wyl kept an eye at the bag-o-bones from the corner of his eye as he ate and drank. He recognised such wary, tired movements easily; he knew what that look in the other’s eye meant. It made him feel just a little bit good at having been able to provide some sort of relief for the other. Perhaps that feeling was why all those do-gooders were running around? It was a good feeling at least; he might even try to get himself more of it in the future. Maybe. If he could be bothered to.<br/><br/>“You should try the lamb first. Truly excellently cooked. It fairly melts on the tongue. I ain’t had lamb this good in ages. The last time I tasted this was back in Buckholme durin’ the festival a couple of years ago. Excellent food and excellent opportunity for an entreprisin’ gentleman such as myself. I was richer then than even the king. There was this veil-dancer from the South, see? And they did this thing with their hips I ain’t even seen anyone do before. It was worth every single coin, let me te-”<br/><br/>He froze almost solid upon seeing the other’s revealed face. He had thought the scarf to be there to hide a hideous scar or pockmark or some other blemish, but not this. Wyl’s fingers tightened so much that the pie was carelessly crushed between them. Shaking his hand to get rid of the mush, Wyl scrambled over on his knees in order to sit next to the bag-o-bones. Ignoring the smell and any sort of personal space – though he was wary of a possible reaction – he pushed aside as much of the cloth as he could and leaned in to see better in the dark.<br/><br/>“Hideous, horrible, terrible thing.” He grumbled as he poked at the metal. His voice was no longer light and teasing, but deadly serious and dark. “Civilised people my foot. Fuckin’ barbarians the whole damn lot of ‘em. Should be fuckin’ illegal is what. It’s no wonder you haven’t been eatin’ well, darlin’, not with this thrice damned thing around your neck.”<br/><br/>With careful, gentle movements he pushed a finger in between the metal and the skin to test just how much space there was. Not much. Wyl started glaring at the metal collar-muzzle as if it had offended him, and started to run his fingers all around it. There had to be a seam somewhere. Or runes if it was applied with magic.<br/><br/>“We’re takin’ this off tonight, darlin’, mark my words. Unless you did some very nasty things to children, then you don’t deserve this monstrosity. No one deserves this.” He growled as he moved behind the bag-o-bones to get a better look at the neck area. “Were you awake when they forced this on you? Do you remember if it was put on by magic? Or was it a normal lock?”