[Something rotten twists inside of him, dark and angry. For a second the void goes red, and he feels bone shattering beneath his fists, feels blood spilling over his hands, feels the familiar weight of a razor in his hand-

He clenches his hands into fists, against his thighs.]

Justice and destiny, yes. [He sounds half-listening. Prefers the sound of Righteousness and bloody Vengeance, himself.

He gets to his feet, then hefts the basket of flowers.]

I need to fetch candles for the service. I may as well check the library for a guide to flowers, while I'm there.