In all his intent and plan, in the high of cull and voodoo, he nearly misses it. He stops moving then, frowning at her as he finds the off note in her voice. He looks up to her face, and at first he doesn't see it. There's no mark of clear red, no color at all, but her face has a mark and he ain't know what else it could be.

"HEY," He says. He feels the odd turn of fear in her, with her hope of leaving another spared. Her voice doesn't have no energy that he can tell. He sets the body down slow.

They haven't got much time before the blood dries but even still. "What plagues the pan of a Sand sister? YOU CULLED IT. You got off clean. THIS ABOUT THE NAMELESS?"