It hurt to hear the soft sincerity in Magdelene's voice. Anger rose inside him, misplaced and monstrous. He knew it for what it was and held it back. Magdelene deserved none of the brunt of his grief.
Erik stood instead, crossing through the darkened library as if it were illuminated with the natural light of day. Taking a glass from the discrete bar tucked into the library, he poured the same beverage he suggested for the diva and brought it to her before returning again to his place on the couch. In deference to the company he'd established, he poured his next bit of gin into the glass he'd stopped using hours ago.
"I know nothing about you," Erik said. It was an invitation as well as a statement of fact.