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"My dear Iudex," Furina says as he follows her out of the opera house, out of the concluded trial—her hands clasped behind her back, knuckles pressed tight, gaze cast somewhere to the left as if Neuvillette isn't even worth looking directly at—"Sometimes it feels like you don't truly respect me."
Knife's edge, truths cutting in the back of his throat; he ponders the shape of them on his tongue, how to tell her—
"But that would be ridiculous—you are loyal to your Archon, aren't you?"—And this time she turns—in time for her to catch his small nod, in time for him to catch her small smile.