A grin. Of anything she might have expected - fighting back, angry words, even taunting words, or perhaps a daring escape attempt, or a request or demand for freedom - she hadn't expected that. She hadn't expected the grin that said so plainly that none of it touched him at all, that while her mind felt ready to split in two from the effort of keeping her outward composure, his was calm and unaffected.

"Your blasphemy is foul."

She squared her shoulders. This must be done. Mercury stepped around behind Kanda, and her dagger glinted as she drew it again. She nodded to John, a signal to hold their prisoner tightly indeed for what she was about to do to him. She was glad she was behind him; if he could have seen her eyes in that moment- They narrowed, and hardened.

"This will give your story credibility." Without further warning, crimson streaked his back as the dagger lashed it. The wounds were shallow enough not be dangerous, deep enough to plausible.

She had no idea if she'd done it as punishment for his remarks about Metalia, for the sake of her current plan, or because of the sudden driving need to hurt him, to show she could, to show that she wasn't hurt because she would deal the hurt instead and substitute vengeance for regret and pain.

Unbidden, she remembered the scrape of her fingernails against that same skin, a memory as hated now as it had been enjoyed then. She struck once more to strike it from her mind.