"I'll settle for the ones that don't stroll yet," he murmurs, in the way of a man who has summarily presented himself to the marketplace knowing fully well he will be cheated of both his coin and his dignity, and is nevertheless heeding the call. Of course it'll come with trouble, indignity and fruitful combinations thereof. It is in the nature of such things to traumatise the maximum number of people and satisfy the fewest.

All the same, and he starts to wave Jacob along, as if it is Hector who knows their way into the mouth of the corridors, they have no options. Hector has no choice.

"I need corpses. The kind known to lie still." Less ambitious in their promenades and carnage-filled exercise routines. "And a forge."