The half-face shakes his head. “Savages don’t draw pay. But we did get this lovely furlough. I hadn’t seen the Capitol in a year. Never thought I would again. A bit o’ murder is a small thing to ask against getting to come home, even for a bit.”

“Who sent you?” Lexi asks again.

Again, he shakes his bald head.

“No more questions.”

He begins stalking around the bamboo table in the middle of the room. Every microscopic, ethereal element that makes up her being is screaming primordially at Lexi to run, but she can scarcely force one foot forward.

“Stop!” he commands her, spittle flying as he growls the word.

She does, half leaning over the tabletop with her hands pressed flat against it.

“Don’t make me angry,” he almost pleads with her. “I don’t want to do this angry. I just… allow me my moment, and I’ll make yours quick. Those are my terms. I advise you to accept them.”

Lexi says nothing, merely waits, standing there against the table.

The half-face moves around the mound of maps and closes the gap between them, standing behind Lexi.

“Turn around,” he instructs her.

At first she can’t move. Lexi has to close her eyes and practically push herself off the table to force her feet into action, turning her body into his.

The half-face smells of the earth, dirt and grass and chalky granite. It’s far more pleasant than the unwashed odor of his body beneath.

Her would-be killer leans over her shoulder, wide nostrils pressing into her neck. Lexi can feel her hair touching the waxy, twisted lines of the scars dominating his face. He inhales deeply, and it makes her shiver, desperate to recoil, but she doesn’t.

“The smell of a lady is a fine thing indeed,” he says, sounding almost drunk.

“I’m sorry you’ve been so deprived,” Lexi laments, and it almost seems sincere.

Her scent is followed by two of Lexi’s fingers, which she spears inside the man’s nostrils as deeply as she can plunge them, his head tossing back and his spine arching at an awkward angle as her nails dig painfully into his membranes.

The bald man shrieks and swipes wildly with his double-sided ax. Lexi presses her body deeply into his, giving the blind, panicked swings as little distance as possible. She reaches up with her other hand and grabs as she digs her fingernails into his hairless skull. The two of them dance around the surveyor’s room, the half-face trying to pull away from her, and Lexi intent on riding him through it, curling her fingers in his nostrils and securing her grip. She feels warm, sticky blood oozing over her knuckles.