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“No?” She asked, clearly surprised. “Okay sweetie, I won't, if that's what you want. But do you mind if I ask why? We could not tell him about you and Brucie, if you're afraid how he would react... though I'm sure he'd get over it quickly, once he saw how hot you are, doing it! But you have to know he wouldn't have a problem with you and Daddy, not after everything he's been doing to me all these years! Even if you don't want to do anything with him yourself, I know how much he would love getting to watch, if you'd let him.”

He gave the man a hard poke in the chest while smoke wafted from the cigarette between his fingers, then leaned in with bloodlust radiating from every word hissed with his icy voice. “Notice that I haven’t asked your name yet, even though I gave you mine? It’s because you don’t have a name to me. To me, you’re just ‘Bitch’, the sniveling little Bitch who decided to come in here and ruin my evening, talking awfully big game for someone in skull-fucking range. That’s what’ll be engraved on your tombstone: ‘Here lies Bitch. Cause of death: got skull-fucked until his brains leaked out of his ears.’ Shit, I’ll carve the engraving myself. Now I suggest you get the fuck out before I use your eye sockets like a whore’s ass!”

His movements slowed, and his water magic flickered like a candle at the end of its wick. Regardless, he powered through, and after several minutes of relentless combat, he delivered a critical blow, punching Viktor in the chin and sending his brain rattling around in his skull. He staggered back, using what little mental capacity he retained to stay upright, while Falco hobbled over, his strength fading. He and everyone else simply assumed his condition was due to fatigue.