Hold your tongue! [ it takes much of his restrain, too much, to keep himself from slamming her against the nearest wall and hold a blade to her throat. his hands curl into fists and tremble, knuckles turning white.

they make little sense, her words, but he knows a slight when he hears one and about lucrezia- he has killed for that, he has killed for more and perhaps one day for less. ]

I do not know who you are and I do not care, but do not speak ill of her again. I will make you regret it.

[ but lucrezia is here. there is some comfort in that, though hollow and bittersweet. ]