[P] put an axe in my baby's head

[Apolonia]

I'M GONNA DO TIME BUT SHE LOOKS GOOD IN RED -

There is only one moment in their conversation in which O starts to doubt her appraisal.

The moment when the whine of the violin swells to its loudest, trembling pitch, and she turns her head to hear him speak in that awful, deep voice, and the dim light turns all his edges to amber, and the dark gold pitch of his eyes turns so dark it almost seems black: when he says no one alive, that is when her confidence wavers, and her gaze narrows, and she longs to reach for the blade at her hip.

But the moment of fear is quicker than a blink, and O realizes, almost with a sense of humor, that words are just words. She could as easily tell him that she eats lions for breakfast. That she has not slept since the night she came crawling out onto the sand like a snake. Or that she’s never had a chance to use her weapon like she wants to. And he would never know if she were lying or not - 

It soothes her. She smiles blankly.

Disinterested, suddenly, she gazes at Najjad. The phoenix stands almost as tall as she does, and even in the dark of the room seems to shine like a flame. Oh, to have a companion like that - O wonders briefly if they really are companions, or if Veer owns him like she owns her axe. She is not sure which would be worse for the poor soul to end up on Veer’s hitlist.

And to think I thought you more clever than that. 

Ah, and she grins at that, a real grin for the first time, wolfish and dark as he turns from her. Any other night it might have rubbed her the wrong way - O is, after all, her mother’s daughter, and not the most cool-headed even of Solterran girls - yet she is somehow amused by his utter lack of observance, takes it more as a joke than an insult. It is uncommon for her. Perhaps even a sign of disrespect. But who’s to say?

She turns and slips into the opposite hallway.