[There's something about that phrase that sits strangely with Charles, to the point where even now in the immediate face of death, he's unsettled by it. I was ordered to kill you.
He's very young, he thinks, but the reflexive exhaustion that those words trigger feel ancient, like they've been with him for longer than he's been alive.]
...I don't suppose you'll do me the favor of giving me a name behind that order?
[He's only one small human, after all, and even though he's bitter with fury and disdain and hatred, he holds no delusions that he could fight back in this state. The question isn't an attempt to stall for time so much as genuine curiosity.]
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He's very young, he thinks, but the reflexive exhaustion that those words trigger feel ancient, like they've been with him for longer than he's been alive.]
...I don't suppose you'll do me the favor of giving me a name behind that order?
[He's only one small human, after all, and even though he's bitter with fury and disdain and hatred, he holds no delusions that he could fight back in this state. The question isn't an attempt to stall for time so much as genuine curiosity.]