[The edges of his sockets curl, almost crinkling with that dark, cold amusement. They get the idea, don't they? Smart. Intuitive. Even when they've all shut down, even when they think they can't possibly sink any lower - they always, alwaysfind a way.
The words grind out coldly, pitched low with his own laughter.]
no subject
The words grind out coldly, pitched low with his own laughter.]
That's the spirit.
[Good kid.
And he turns on his heel, and is gone.]