You always had my attention, Gren thinks. Vicious never really had to do much to accomplish that. Just be his usual cold distant self. And Gren would always be there, like a moth striving for the moon.

It worried him a little that this wasn't quite the Vicious he knew. Nor was it the feral, wrathful version that had pulled a knife on him not long ago. But he couldn't put his finger on what it was, just yet.

"Right. So what do you need me for?"

He shut down the concern from his voice. Vicious never seemed to want that from him.