"Charmed life," is wry enough to be insincere, a faint trace of disgust at the notion of what Deacon would consider settling for less, writ into the line at his brow and the curve of his mouth. "Maybe you'd have less issues with control if you just did what came natural. For instance, I'm not sitting here wishing I was over there." The feeders, he means, and it's true; Deacon is neither bloodlusting fledgling nor thirsty. Which doesn't make him any less of a messy eater, of course, just one that gets it often enough.

"And you know, down here, the outside factors don't touch us. We keep things on a lockdown. There are places around Baedal that're the same way."