'The door,' Laurent added. He stood holding the cloth John had given him, observing for a moment how supplied and efficient the man was. He was as useful as he was mysterious, with eyes that should not be as soft and warm as they often were. He was an enigma, one that Laurent could not help but be intrigued by.

He looked away from John and the body on the floor and towards Damen. Though unhappy and bleeding, it was hardly the worst Laurent had ever seen him, but the idea that he'd bled in the supposed safety of Laurent's own rooms was vexing. 'You should sit,' he said, holding up the cloth. 'If the smell of this is any indication, its application will not be pleasant.'