"Hunting is an unpredictable art," Will said with a small nod. "We might be the predators, but the dance is dictated by the prey. You have to be prepared to match their lead."

Sometimes that meant beguiling, and coaxing. Sometimes it meant hiding in the shadows and pouncing.

Eyes that never could decide if they were blue, green or grey, settled for a long ninety seconds on Conrad's face, before Will looked back down at his papers.

"You like to gently request, from a cooperative thrall." His words start out as a statement, but at the very end he remembers to change his tone to that of a question. For the sake of politeness.