[Someone, somewhere, had to have some affection for those ugly, discarded things. Right now, Cater had to hope Idia was that someone, as he showed that he was one of those things.

His fingers curl on Idia's cheeks as that hand drops down, twitching slightly as even the skin under his tracing tenses. An intimate gesture. A short reprieve from pain. An act of possession, rubbed away almost as soon as it was made, by smudging of blood and what would surely be rubbing of fabric, too.

But they knew it was there.

They knew it had made his breath hitch all the same.]

Anything~?

[There's a dark little hum in his voice as he clearly considers it.

And then he decides. Then he leans forward slightly, too, dropping his voice low to a conspiratorial almost-whisper. A temptation.]

Give me everything. All the awful, disgusting things you thought of to get my attention? Everything else you came up with since? Or will come up with in the meantime? If you give me that, I won't have any choice but to care, right?

[And after the demand, he leans back, his tone brightens, somewhat.]

Because then I'll be even more terrible than I already am, and you'll have no choice but to care about me, too, right?