[ The more Heinrix hears about these lower decks that Marazhai hunts in, the more he wonders... if perhaps he had been foolish to doubt the Rogue Trader. He was no... soft soul, willing to fight for the people around them, an iconoclast that shirks the will of the emperor for the people that struggle underneath the weight of the Empire. No, Heinrix was decidedly not that kind of man. He would project it, yes, but when push came to shove, he was an agent of the Empire, and that meant he perpetuated the seeds of rot that led to places like this festering and straying from the Golden Throne's light.

Heinrix had been... nervous before they started to descend into the bowels of the ship. How could he not be? He doesn't let it show, of course, but that curling anticipation made him feel near-sick from the idea of working with the Xenos so closely, watching him throughout his hunt. But... at the same time, who else could do so? Who else could stand that temptation from the void? Who else but him knew the allure of it and could turn their heads away to say no? (Plenty of people, but Heinrix really was That kind of guy.)

His eyes flicked to Marazhai playing with the knife, even as he adjusted his belt where his force-sword lay at his hip, a comforting weight. ]

Oh? Theirs, I assume? [ One eye narrowed slightly, the one that had once been... nothing, and he turned to look out toward Marazhai's prey. He would point out that these are the furthest that humanity has to offer, the weakest, but he does not want to tempt the Drukhari out and towards greater prey. ] I suppose when the only acknowledgment they've heard from the Bridge is vague vox-announcements and a killer that steals through their shadows, they have little recourse, don't you think?

[ He does not pity them, realizing who he hunted. If he found a heretic or a dark thread of the possible betrayal to the throne, he, too, would not hold back his blade.

Maybe they'll get lucky, and both of their hungers will be sated this jump. }