Hoppon was now promoted (although his king didn't exactly know what the goblin had done in the first place), and happily running around telling every goblin that would listen. The Goblin King himself was not listening nor caring. He noticed the girl sucking blood from her finger and grinned. So she HAD heard him. Had detected something.

He smirked. The Fae food had kicked into full drive now, and he knew that the girl was burning with rage directed at Lewton. "Say it, girl," he murmured, more to himself than anyone. She might hear, she might not, and it didn't really matter to him. "Say it. It's not enough to think it. Words hold so much more power than mere thoughts..."

He continued to talk softly. He might have been the girl's conscious, egging her on. "Remember. Remember what he did to your beloved little sister? Remember his selfishness in not even going to get his ratty toupee himself; no, he ordered a worker to get it. Remember his harsh treatment of you, feel the pain in that bruise on your cheek (though I could heal it in an instant, I want to, if only you would seek me out to do it). Remember his constant derision of you, of your family's heritage.

"Oh, and remember that book of yours? That tattered red thing that your father brought home for you and that you haven't picked up in years. Try to remember. The title. The characters. What were they? More importantly... what did they do?"

The last was a mere breath, less than a whisper. He gauged her expression, the feelings that were building up inside of her. He knew that she was close to the breaking point.

It was only a matter of time. Hopefully only a matter of seconds. When she would call on the goblins... call on him...