[ Byerly's gaze doesn't sharpen, exactly, as Nash talks. What happens is more subtle than that. He still blinks, and leans back casually, and makes a show of unconcern, interest that's idle - but his reactions are far too swift for him to be listening with merely half an ear. His lips twitch in surprise over cult, and thin at killing his family, and his eyebrow arches ironically at poor conversationalist. At Nash's question, Byerly smiles ironically and spreads his hand over his heart. ]

Ah, very familiar. You've just described three-quarters of my relatives. [ Then, with a little gesture of that hand: ] It's an unfortunate thing indeed when such men start to crave power. Or was he doing it on someone else's behalf?