( he ought to flinch at the accusation, but he's used to the verbal abuse. or got to used to it back when there was still plenty of it to hear. the devil always did know just the right things to say to him to break his spirit, crush his confidence. make him doubt himself, fold in upon himself like a collapsing building and drown in his own guilt. the greatest weapon against julian has always been julian, really.

besides. it's hard to flinch when he's still staring, so stunned, completely unable to grasp what he's looking at. the devil, to be sure... right? but then why this form? why her face? why her voice? why? why? what kind of trick is this? he hasn't experienced anything like it before, and that makes it so much harder for him to reconcile. if it were more of the same old sisyphean torture, pushing that boulder of burden in the shape of his long-lost friends and family now only available to him forevermore as twisted illusions and haunted nightmares, he'd be able to shrug it off. but this—

julian's mouth hangs open, his gaze only shifting to watch the tankard she pulls toward her as if on an invisible string slide across the table. without really being conscious of it, all the feathers on his body start to stand on end, ruffled and frazzled until he's puffed up to nearly double the size he was when she came in. whether that's out of fear or a reaction to some perceived threat, even he doesn't know. )

...Countess?? Nad—

( no. no. there, you see, that's it! a deal> a trap! quickly, he shuts his mouth, shakes his head. )

No. No. I'm not falling for this again, just stop. I don't know what you're playing at, but why bother? What else do you want? I said I'd stay. Don't—use her face. Leave her out of this.