[Hamartia]
Toby's attention was tugged at that, as though a thread came loose from the bind the scene before them had on her -- her head canted to look at him, thoughtful and the considering gaze found his eyes and kept there, steady. It could; caring pulled you and pushed you and buffeted you beyond what was simple good sense, what would serve you well in the long run and kept to your interests, kept you safe. It dogged your steps like a shadow that refused to be banished, it curled a finger and made you follow -- but callousness, to this? Couldn't be borne.
"There are lines," she said shortly, because Toby knew them well and kept to them, laid them down like swords to step over. He seemed without ease and he spoke as though not at all surprised by the sight playing in front of the crowd. In another life, another world in fact, she'd have been intrigued -- she'd heard the breath, almost a sigh, caught the implication of something quite personal in the delineation of deaths, but now men with too hardened faces and the kind of eyes that had seen too much were not a way to pass the time. She let her attention slide back to the scene, away from him.