[ His distaste for the plain is an inversion of his endless pursuit of the unique and terrible. His hoarding of ancient treasures pales in comparison to the tenacity with which he hounds people, the true object of his fascination. He is hard pressed to speak well of the underground, of all but her really, its strange gem.

It occurs to him that beneath her murderous insinuations she is in fact anxious, perhaps even frightened of leaving the home so knows so well. ]

Then we'll dig a pit of our own and your pet will not go hungry. You have made a home with your own tw— [ He smiles and corrects himself without missing a beat: ] your own hands, but it's obvious to me that you were meant for greater things.