"Unicorns," Erik echoed sardonically, "Are no use to you." Or he himself, now, he thought, with a quieter emotion.
He was silent, after that, watching her across the corridor in her own imprisonment. It was a strange thing, to consider himself in the same situation as she - both helpless, both at the mercy of justice. He'd sown far more than what he was reaping now. Something told him it was the same with her.
And yet...
"I do not consider many to be my friends," he answered at last, in a rare moment of brutal honesty. "There were two, in my life. One was a father where I had none. The other, a man of the law." And now, perhaps, another -- Hannibal Lecter. It was yet difficult to bring himself to admit that he and the good doctor were friends. Yet, it was Hannibal that he'd called. Hannibal, that he'd trusted.
He could not trust Enigma. There was the difference.
"Take little injury from the lack," he said, meaning for the words to be soothing, and unaware that they were not.