[he withdraws his hand after a moment or two, though not without delivering a gentle squeeze to Quentin's forearm. another sip from his tea, eyes veiled from view by his lowered eyelashes.]

You are worried that those who don't volunteer to have their hearts cut out will be punished for it, if not by the Duchess, [a pragmatic use of her title, rather than one conveying any real sense of honour or reverence,] then by the Rubeans. Or, perhaps, [and this he ventures far more cautiously,] by some of our fellow Void-touched?