Cherny's touches, his pinches, will turn him. And Noura's hands - had he been crueler to anyone, save Noura? for once her shadow had left her, his eyes passed over her, disinterested - she was just another girl, without an exciting scent, without an exciting feel. The cries of Lunatik!spur him, for he is frightened, frightened and angry, and Glenn was little pieces being swept up by Genny and the Worwoman upon the stage. There is his name, and Catch's head comes up again, the keening sound a vibration in his throat, not knowing what Genny meant - what she said - what she asked, her words to soothe and angry crowd.
And Gloria's to incite it.
He was docile, under Cherny and Noura's twin urgings. He turned, a whipped dog, towards the alley that would hide them from red, angry eyes, from any further call of witness, things that Catch could not say, for he was no liar. His head was low, his chin tucked, led by the pulling and pushing of his brains, the pulling and pushing of his back.
Until this.
A shattering. A Wormwoman.
A threat.
Look at her, a foreigner - the color of her skin - a spy - worm, worm, worm.
The bellow that comes from him is something that comes from the very heart of him, a giant's bellow, brassy and hollow like church-bells, so that the howl of his Truth was a cowering thing next to it, a sound that fills the milling crowd and the Square. Cherny would find himself on a creature with a single mind, a single purpose. Back into the crowd he crashes, a towering ship among fleshy seas, his strides long and loose and full of purpose, his eyes a wounded rage, lips drawn back and writhing over his cracked teeth. Eyes that focused only on the Wormwoman, the Wormwoman with her lies and her words and her worms -
And those that dared, those who were the leanest, the hungriest, those that did not flinch from Glenn's accusations - who needed no money or coin to cause trouble with their anger - eddied after him, like silent, terrible wolves, smelling the impending blood.