"A peace offering," Bakura repeated with a hard edge to his jawline, that suggested he was still much angrier than the calm words belied. "You can balm your conscience all you want but don't bother dressing it up as anything else, djahtet-mahr. It's only peace so long as your mood holds or you don't go partially insane again, whichever comes first."

A possibility to which, as Solomon had previously noted and Bakura well knew, he had no way to counter. He could push the ghosts quiet but Solomon had learned the same Shadow Magic as Bakura used with uncanny alacrity, so there was a chance that even using that to protect them -- and himself, but them -- would have little to no effect. It was a terrifying thought, and Bakura did not give into fear easily.

So that meant he had to ensure their safety by any other means necessary, including doing what the necromancer wanted. The tension didn't leave but it did subside. "Fine. Where?"