[She wouldn't speak of her feelings openly, but they're no source of shame. Who among them wouldn't choose to love their master in that way, or in any way, if it were within their power to choose whom to love? It's another kind of reverence. It would only be insolent if she expected something to come of it. She doesn't dare.]

Fear's another politeness. Showing fear where it's owed. Even some of the filth can manage that. Screaming before I've cast a thing or laid a finger, as if they already know what the pain will be.

[There's a great deal to be done with fear, speaking practically. It is, for her purposes, much more useful than respect. She'll accept it with pleasure from her allies as well as her enemies.

It's her turn to take a step closer to him, but she tries more than that. She moves to brush Barty's cheek with the back of her hand. It's both unduly familiar and an unexpected invasion of his personal space. Her own sense of propriety — something she'd resent someone else for forgetting — having apparently failed her. Given that he is observant, it's possible he's seen her do this type of thing to others in the past. It's no intimidation tactic, although it might seem so in light of her question. Her voice pitches slightly higher, but nowhere near its shrill worst.]

And you? Since you've shown me your manners, am I to assume you have no such fears?