"Lack of control," Very little of the sort. Evidently the boy’s at least skilled — though as much might be surmised from his parentage, his placement. "My. Much better."

It’s still a touch too dull to be properly dry.

Why such animosity towards Vedici? What does he believe his position here is? Questions that will need to be asked. Atticus’ reaction isn’t so difficult to follow, infuriating as it’s been, troubling as reflection will find it. When someone’s trying to kill you, you do what you can.

(Had she been trying to kill him?)

Wren braces her hands against the bars, though whether it’s some unconscious effort to reassure Simon, or just convenient support is difficult to say. This time, when she takes the keys, she doesn’t bother to sort. The wrong one goes in the lock — then another — third try’s the charm. The jerk of her chin towards Benedict:

"Shackles, please." To Simon. Further discussion of consequence may wait until the boy can’t spook himself into a spell. "I trust you know a fitting place."

What a shit thing to say. (Had she even meant to say it?) She steps into place at the corner of the bars; backup, a familiar position, if not one she's assumed for some years.

When it comes to fine motor skills right now, Simon's evidently the leader. What a promotion. Congrats.