"I attacked someone, yes," Bakura scoffed. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed, Diabound coiling around one arm and shoulder. "And I've killed them before, right in front of you. You even put one out of his misery, cut his head off, or don't you recall that, sefatjiw?" The old title he'd used for her, butcher, cut across the small space between them.

"But you didn't care then. You haven't cared about the dozens of other times between then and now either, by me or others. But now you bark for a new guildmaster and you're all about following the rules?"

He came close to the bars. "And if my choice is to leave?"