"Not at all." He doesn't need the gesture, raising his hand. He wants clarity for the man, awareness that he's the reason for what follows. Ribbons of blood emerge from him and not just orifices, the pores of his skin. They flow in strangely beautiful formation, like electromagnetic whorls, absorbing directly into his palm. He grows more flush as the man grows more pale. Weaker.

Before he can swoon, Grayson stops the flow, absorbing the last of what's flowing through the air. "Break his neck. We're almost done here." One last thing, but not before they're out and away.

He's going to burn the house down with such intensity, there will be nothing left for the forensics detectives to analyze save ash.