ROALIS 69, 2719 - EVENING
What? It was thrilling, to see all of this happening and not even needing to worry about the consequences of it. It had always been such an issue, in Brunnhold - violence, death, murder. It had been a wonder in itself that the white-haired passive hadn't been punished for Fred's death, and even more so that he had escaped after killing students and another fellow servant. But here... it didn't matter, none of it did. He had been so careful; he'd been so cautiously keeping himself from violence whenever possible and only participating when necessary, as he had done the night he'd met Niccolette and Aremu, or tonight in the bar.
If Silas Hawke and his Bad Brothers allowed him the freedom to give in to those irritating urges, then he had no issue with the fact that he'd sworn his loyalty to them. Gods, even just getting to watch other Brothers do it felt fine enough, even if it couldn't beat doing it himself. Lars pushed that from his mind now, however, unwilling to focus on anything but the present moment, and he watched as the galdor crossed to question the prisoner yet again.
And again, the human denied her.
He didn't quite understand the way things worked around the harbor just yet - he didn't know who might've hired this man and his friends, or why, or what purpose killing Niccolette could have served - but the idea of not knowing his employer's name was simply made no sense. Had he just heard the promise of coin and set off to follow what must've been one of the most powerful galdori in the Rose?
It was Bertold's turn with him then, a large hand snatching a pair of dull pliers from his assortment of tools and heading from the counter back to the suspended prisoner's form. How the man remained conscious through the Brother's threats and the plier's dirty teeth moving to grab at his own, Lars had no clue, but it wasn't long before the mustached human had broken the prisoner.
Well I suppose that's why they call him Breaker, then.
Lars kept his smile covered with his hand, even now, but moved to step closer to Bertold, Niccolette, and the bloodied, beaten prisoner. He didn't come close enough to feel the extent of Niccolette's field, but remained at the edges of it, peering around to get a good look at the injured man.