The sharp edge to it draws his attention and in answer some flickering shape is made narrow and keen. For the briefest moment, Ralston there at the foot of the bed seems startled, a stripe of uneasiness written with bizarre clarity in a face that is otherwise so remarkably closed and barbed.

And then it's tucked away, made hidden or erased as quickly as it had manifested. Aware enough of himself to be cognizant of his own vulnerability, Ralston adopts a sneer in its place.

"You may rest assured that I've no interest in laying my hands on you."