Tiberius took a moment to take in and process what she'd said. It wasn't an urge he had ever personally experienced, because his mind was too analytical and emotionless for that sort of thing. He didn't
want to hurt people or things; sometimes it was merely necessary in order to achieve his goals. Sometimes those goals were things others might have considered frivolous, or not worth the cost of inflicting pain or loss of life, such as simply satisfying a curiosity or exploring a new concept or theory — but to each his own. To Tiberius, those things were important — and often moreso than society's need to protect humans above all else. Although he'd never felt that particular impulse, it wasn't as shocking or distasteful to him as it might have been to someone else. In fact, it seemed perfectly in character for Antigone, creature of emotion and whim that she was.
"You've picked an inconvenient time for it," he observed, glancing back at the door that lead to the dance. One song had just ended, he could hear, and another, faster paced tune had begun. Most good hostesses, he was certain, did not sneak away from their own parties to torture someone in the next room, but what was to be done about it?
"Summon a servant," he suggested with a shrug. "Or pull a guest aside, if you must — just be sure to obliviate them after, and don't leave any
permanent damage."
