It would be unusual if Enver Gortash had no reaction at all to the head the Bhaalist showed to him. The freshness of the gore already presents a very obvious and close scent that curls his hair a little. Not necessarily new; it's a layer that wafts in now and again before settling to something older until the essence of copper seems to overtake it all.

The face, he knows. The name even. He always made certain to know names. Being forgettable could mean disposability, but it was also the best way to move undetected, and the former Chosen would not suffer that kind of blind spot in his temple.

At the moment, the trouble is he doesn't know how he feels in seeing this, other than cold and oddly satisfied. Satisfied perhaps because the Dark Urge expected this to hurt him? He doesn't even trust that is true. Satisfied because he knows this person would have likely killed him even if he managed to get out of this place?

Because he can't shake the feeling that somehow they all knew what he was being prepared for. That they were waiting for him to be gone. Then it would be anyone's guess to see who Bane would choose to replace him, if it would even be a current initiate.

And if only one was there, with no sign of additional heads or mention of them, then this one was hoping to distinguish himself, no doubt. Baneites only acted alone when there was purpose behind it. A willingness to show they would do anything to take what they wanted. But it was a stupid move to make against a Bhaalist, much less the Bhaalist.

Sort of the definitive way to find out you're not worthy, isn't it?

His gaze flickers to the Dark Urge, like a candle flame caught by a sudden breeze. Does he wish, at least a little, that he had been there?

Whatever the case, his reason for asking for his attention is for the moment forgotten. "And soundly corrected?" he asks.