"...Does it hurt?" she asked. Her voice came out quieter than she meant it to.
"No," Cruxius said. Which was either a lie or inhuman, and she couldn't tell which.
She looked from the leg to his face. He was looking at her—not the way he looked at her in the hallway, not that bottomless hungry thing—but something steadier. Considering. Like she was a puzzle he'd committed to solving.
"...Ten thousand GC a month."
Thalia blinked. "What?"
"I'm offering you a position," he said. "As my assistant. Ten thousand GC a month."
The silence that followed lasted exactly as long as it took Thalia's brain to process the number.
Then—
"'Ten thousand—'" She choked on the syllables. Her eyes went wide. "'Are you insane?'"
"You asked that already. The offer stands."
"'That's five years of rent in a major city—'"
"I'm aware of the real estate market, yes."
