It's true that things were more stable before Billie's departure. More stable still before Jessamine's death and Daud's subsequent strangeness. For years, no Whaler would have dared to question Daud's authority, or even to stir much trouble among the lower ranks. His assassins had trusted him implicitly (many - or is it several? - still do, or want to), and while Daud had always known that some day his rule would end, that day had seemed far distant. Certainly, none among the assassins would have thought to try their strength against his, not when they knew what he could do, what powers he held.

Daud doubts that this boy is among the ones who've been chorusing in mutinous whispers. Oscar's deadly when pitted against outsiders, but among his fellow Whalers, he seems to lack malice. Seems more than others to take them as brethren. (Which makes a kind of sense, perhaps. The boy was the youngest recruit Daud's ever accepted, brought in partly due to Thomas's unceasing requests. Has known the Whalers for over half his life.) And if Oscar's like Billie in his preference for distance, the boy's like Thomas in his unerring loyalty, the formalities that spring from apparent earnestness.

He turns his head toward Oscar, quickly looks him over. The boy makes a lonely figure in the moonlight, though that's a useless thought, means little (lately, he's been plagued by useless thoughts, idle observations and sentiments that serve as distractions, nothing more). If Daud were in a less abstracted mood, he might have raised an eyebrow at the boy's question. As it is, he only turns his gaze back to the ruins around.

"They don't need to know of it.

"It's quiet."