[ The playing kind. His cold, steel fingers fall over the center of his chest, wondering at its quickening.

He watches a laughing group pile into the elevator and decides to wait for the next one. ]

Ha. With springs like these, anything I hunted would hear me coming.

[ It's not an admission he makes lightly, but she already knows — or he suspects strongly that she does — that he's not like her, or like any other human here. ]

Shall I guess? [ he must be teasing, his tone suspiciously airy: ] I thought I might start from the top and work my way down.