Hm. I should redecorate again. This time with their severed heads at the doorway, [ is his reply, serious yet oh-so-droll, because. Come on. He knows Pai better than that. He steers them to a brief stop at the open facade of a cafe, to buy two wrapped sweet-buns for them both, while over the speakers that familiar penetrating tenor sings: Be-elzebub has a devil put aside for me-e-e ... for me-e-e ... for meeeeeeee! -- the pitch spiking show-offishly to soprano without any loss of volume. Hei represses a twitch of irritation. The drunken prisoner in the neighbouring cell was belting out Queen songs all night. He could do without the repetition. ]

[ Unwrapping his bun, he takes a big bite of the soft fragrant bread, before glancing at her. ]
No one else bothered you, did they?