Many of the predators the Cirque housed were so by nature - they killed to survive, but took no undue pleasure in the killing. The man who caught the girl she'd set free was not one of those, and Rose's heart sank for the girl in his grip even as she hardened her heart for what was surely coming. She was always cool; quiet, polite, slow to smile and rarely caught laughing, but her expression now was as icy as a Moscow winter.
"She won't escape with her life," she allowed, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "But there are yet things here she could escape. If I could, I would have killed her myself." It was true; it required perhaps a very creative and lenient interpretation of the vow to do no harm, but if it to spare others a torturous death, she would have used all the opiates in her stores to put them asleep and let them die that way. Alas that her species was incapable of harm. She returned his smile with a faintly arched eyebrow, unimpressed by all appearances. "It's impolite to play with one's food, Mr. Wickes."