#grehta

It seemed his name had made it around even to the civilians. Something about that fact made his lip curl in satisfaction, and he took a step closer to the girl, even if just to frighten her. He threw his hands up, as if to prove he had nothing up his sleeve (though, this did not prove anything, because he could reach for his concealed wand and have it out within two seconds, should he needed to).

In all truth, she really was in no danger - that is, if she did not have a reason to be in opposition against him. 

— “I wouldn’t dream of it, lass.” 

Before, he was uneasy from the fact that his name had made the papers, that the civilians he often chatted with in the pubs would now give him wary glances rather than a decent tip. His cover was blown, his character in risk -  he would have to go into hiding, like the others. But now, now that he saw the effect he had on people, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed not having to pretend, not having to shake hands with those whose head he desired to see on a spike. The terror in eyes as he walked past, there was something gratifying about it all. To be feared - it gave him the greatest vigor, the greatest confidence, to do something just a little bit wicked.