Katurian's hand sweated underneath Edward's. He was aware of the eyes, too, and he did care, he did care that he was pinned down in public surrounded by all those people who might know who he was, who might murmur about his instability or dangerous reputation. There was a time when he would not have cared, when he would have laughed at or even relished the mistakes in their judgment, but that time was long over. That time ended three hours before he received a (not-quite) final bullet to the brain.

He pulled his attention back to Edward, his eyes wide.

"Sometimes." He swallowed. "Sometimes, all right?"