No, of course not. Elia didn't think that Kennet couldn't have handled such an old, powerful spirit; she knew that he had more than enough power to burn it out of existence. But if he wasn't answering her outright, that was enough to know that it hadn't been done – either because of Management, or for some reason of his own. It didn't really matter which.
"Lovely," she drawled, a sigh in her own words, and turned on her heel to pace in the other direction. As for what Kennet wasn't watching, there was so much to ignore – the movement of the chains over her chest, the glitter of gold at her hips, and the swaths of skin exposed by the slide of white silk against her thighs and calves. Elia had been a dancer for some time; she moved naturally in the most provocative of ways, more prowling than pacing.
"I'll take it, though. As long as I don't have to tear apart anyone I like in order to deal with it. I forget, sometimes, that so many of the people that I enjoy are so much more fragile."