Avelãs - 18th May, Night.

Hunter staggered backwards, the momentary tightening of the grip on his injured neck disorienting him. But it didn't last long: he pulled the knife out of his boot and taking Widmayer in the same hold, the boy had him in earlier on, he hissed coldly: 'I am going to kill you. I am going to slit your throat and enjoy the way your warm blood will pulse over my hands, and I am going to take great pleasure watching as the life dims in your eyes that'll look at me with fear and hatred.'

Josef stopped struggling, feeling the sharp blade press against his skin, its cold edge digging in just a smallest bit, with each breath. He had expected to complete his evening with a smooth, quick questioning, a successful late hour which would have him back to Fandorin, before anyone even noticed he had been gone. It didn't feel as promising since he was thrown over the man's shoulder, or when they have met an officer and a Portuguese peasant. And right at that moment it looked that the prospect of not surviving was rather real.

"You...are a gentleman..."He uttered with great effort. He didn't know this man but for what he'd seen and what Fandorin had told him. And that was little. He was told he had no experience or little in the art, and was otherwise a mere captain, not even a blood thirsty soldier.

Didn't mean he couldn't slice a man's throat open, did it.

Hunter leaned in closer, grip tightening, the skin of Widmayer's neck taut under the knife's edge, and then he whispered, not threatening, just stating a fact: 'You are wrong, little one. I am not a gentleman. But I promise to bury you... Right after I see what your blood tastes like.'

"..." Josef grew silent. He searched for something to indicate that Hunter was bluffing, that his threats were anything but what he said. It didn't sound right. This man was a mad case. ".....Did you kill that man?" The mad case able of something as illogical as slaying his own contact. Or did he work for the French, for he was threatening one who certainly hadn't served those?

His could be felt pulsating quick and strong at his neck where the blade was, adrenaline and perhaps even a slight bit of fear causing his heart to beat faster.

'And wouldn't you like to know?' Hunter smirked. 'Did von Dorn send you?' The hand that held Widmayer's waist tightened, Hunter's fingers digging into the man's flesh through layers of clothing.

He didn't say no, but he was also short of confirming it. Josef grit his teeth and moved his head back as far as he could, with Hunter's body barring the way.

"Wouldn't you... like to know." He muttered though his answer had been simpler. It incriminated noone, unlike Hunter's question. His left hand began, very slowly and carefully, to slip towards the pocket that the layers of his clothing would hide.

'Thought as much,' stated Hunter and the let the knife make the smallest of incision's on the lad's neck, just enough to break the skin and see a drop of blood well up. He leaned it and licked the blood off. 'And now, let's see if we can get you out of this camp before I acquire a taste for your blood, Josephina.' With that Hunter pulled the knife way and turned Widmayer roughly, holding on to one hand with a hard grip.

Josef stood infront of the man, shocked at what he had just witnessed, distressed and startled at Hunter's words. Whether the man's intentions were to kill him where nobody could hear him or whether he meant to release him? Just a moment ago it looked like the first would happen, should he have spoken or not.

He glanced behind Hunter, and then withdrew the spare knife he had kept in the pocket and pushed the man forward, the knife right pressed at the bloodied neck, and if he were successful, then it would've been Hunter against the tree , behind him, as well.

Hunter submitted to Widmayer with a smile, letting the other hold him against the tree.
'Go on then.'

"Go on?.." He asked, and exchanged his hand for the knife, and his knife went to rest above Hunter's brow. "....Now... tell me, Have you anything to do with that dead man?"

'You know I won't. Just kill me. You'll like it. Kill me, oh sweet Josephina.'

He rose and smashed the butt of his knife against Hunter's head. Not enough to knock him out, but indeed to draw blood. His grip with his hand tightened on the wound. It caused pain but allowed breathing to continue.

"I repeat the question. Hunter. ..." He sounded angry. ".. you shall be smart to answer."

George chuckled and grinned, the pain seemingly not even registering. 'Oh, no, I shall not be.' He leaned forward as much as Widmayer's grip would allow. 'Kill me. I want you to kill me. I've tasted your blood, surely you'd like to return the favour?'

"..DON'T..."He uttered in a harsh whisper, containing himself just enough that he would not yell, for it would draw unwanted attention. He had the higher hand now, but for how long?

His expression changed from angry back into a smirk, he twirled the blade around and placed it gently above Hunter's eye. ". Killing you.. would've been easy... for you as it would be for me." He spoke, breathing in. "....but leaving you blind.... wouldn't that be more terrible?" He knew he was no longer acting as a gentleman, that he should have done so. But his line of work was not for the men who only asked questions - a fine excuse that was.

"..An eye or an answer... what do you say?" He placed the flat of his knife against the eyelid and then lifted it again.

'I won't need my eyes to find you... I know what you smell like, know what you taste like. You are going to have to kill me to stop me. Kill me, Josef, kill me. You are just like me, I can see it in your eyes. You like to take people's life, don't you? Because it is the ultimate form of control. When they seize to be someone's child, spouse, sibling, friend, and they become yours to do with as you please. Yours to kill.'

"No!.. I am not like you." He answered sharply. "Shut your gob." He added, his accent showing, but it wasn't the Portuguese he had acted upon earlier. It was his own.

"Answer my question.. or you'll loose one..and then the other..and when I shall run out of that... you shall be cut elsewhere.. Fingers... toes, ears.. all while you are still alive." His eyes narrowed darkly. "....Answer me, and I shall spare you all of it...and let you go."

Hunter smiled again. 'I am sorry, you are indeed not like me. I do not take pleasure in watching people suffer. And that means, we are done talking.' Hunter jerked his head away from the hand holding the knife and grabbed with one hand pulling to the side, with the other he punched Josef in the solar plexus.

"I do no..." He did not finish, breath lost to the punch. He doubled over as far as it allowed him, his knifeless hand reaching to his chest as he wheezed and coughed.

It was easy to pry off the hand from his neck, now that it was slippery with blood and twist it behind his back. 'Listen to me, and liten to me good. You will get out of here now, and return to von Dorn, I am sure he is worried about you. And if you think you can try and elicit some answers from than think again, because it will end up with one of us dead or me giving you up for what you are, and don't think I won't do it.'

His chance was gone. He was kneeling on one knee with the hand twisted to his back. He tried to move this and that way, but felt the grip firm and unrelenting. There was no way he could turn without risking a serious injury to his arm, and dislocation was a small prize to pay to what else could happen.

"I don't trust you." He muttered stifly.

George snorted. 'Do you think I trust you?' He tugged the boy upwards roughly. 'Come on, little one, time for all good spies to be going back to their masters.'

He got to his feet with Hunter's 'help' grunting. "You will talk.." But not tonight. He agreed to not tempt his fate no more. Not tonight. "..Now, unhand me." And he was more eager to leave.

Hunter grinned cheerfully. 'Won't talk if you won't.' He turned Widmayer to face him with one hand. 'Wait.' And then he adjusted the lad's dress and wig. 'Now you are as pretty as before.' And George let the man go.

In a true girls' fashion Widmayer lifted his head up in disdain, then looked at Hunter: ".. We shall see about that." A challenge. And then he broke of into a run. This time though, it was to leave, and steal away into the night.

Hunter watched the boy disappear, shook his head and winced. Now he had to go and wash the blood of his neck and maybe see about bandaging it. Little idiot, that Widmayer. He turned sharply on his heel and went back to headquarters.