As if on cue, Marek lifted a hand to wipe his forehead. His hands weren't clean, and they left marks, but he didn't particularly care; he actually liked the way he looked when he was a bit mussed. It meant that he had been working hard.
He watched her curiously, without judgment, just trying to understand her. She was more complex and guarded than the people he was used to, it seemed. It made her interesting. "Letting it substitute for someone?" he asked. Merlin knew he'd taken out his anger on inanimate objects before. "I did say I'd ask why you were in the mood for something sharp and pointy, but you don't have to answer." He tended not to leave things unsaid once he'd thought them, unless it felt necessary for his own safety, or it betrayed any of his loyalties. Then he grinned. "Yeah. It's like a byproduct of hard, satisfying work. Don't you think?"