For a long time his gaze remains fixed on the discarded head. Whatever fury remains, he burns it into the memory of that twisted, familiar face, half-receding, but still visible.

What had been his foolish plan? Clearly Gortash wouldn't be with the Dark Urge -- did the cult believe their former (but somehow still current) Chosen's life expectancy would be less if the Bhaalspawn were no longer alive?

The question, the rap of a knuckle on the bars, draws his attention back. The Dark Urge's eyes are intent on him in a way that used to leave him wanting to gasp before, and it threatens to stop his breath now. What an effort it had been, to continue reflecting on current developments, to ensure that his god's interests continued to be clearly established and maintained in their agreements -- all the while, Bhaal's Chosen would shoot a look like that and Gortash would momentarily hate his own chastity.

Every now and then there was a question that could be read as business as usual, but had the opening to mean something more suggestive. Insistently, he would only see it as the former.

When was he last out?

"...When I was placed here."

In truth, Gortash hadn't asked, and if he had known at the time, he would have hesitated to test it. Whatever his feelings on the matter beyond it, he would not have apologized if he did not expect to prove he meant it. Staying put was a show of that.

Uncomfortable? Yes. But he's also aware how much it could still be, and he's endured worse.