[ Midnight grins at Kaveh, leans in, has the audacity to say it in a stage whisper. ]

Darling, you were the one who called me starved, not I.

[ Then more loudly, over his shoulder: ]

You've enough blood on your hands, love. Let me soften this blow for you.

[ Midnight strikes first. One hand to Kaveh's neck, then one reaching to his hair, the golden crown of it; if both miss their targets, his hands will reach for his sword next. Midnight, of course, wants blood. Since when has he wanted anything else? ]