Sweeney couldn't help but smile at Sadako's lighthearted behavior and her praising. He half wished he could watch her work as she watched his, but hers was so internal, so beautifully untraceable, that it was impossible for him to see most of her work come to light. But he adored it either way.
No need to rush matters, it's the build-up that gets the blood pumping, the adrenaline rushing, the flame of desire to flicker. You know full well what my plans are, Sadako, no need to play coy. And sure enough, his thoughts focused intensely to snips and fragments of memories he held dear to him of her body writhing, of his hands over her skin... of his blade cutting through it, just enough to get beads of blood to run down her body. Tonight was blood, tomorrow might be something else entirely, but he craved it, he craved every facet and angle from which he could perceive it. And recently, he found that his bloodlust came in more than just the form of wrath.