Childe stared at you from the other end of the hall. He was standing there, a bloody knife in his left hand and a ripped apart, mangled body in his right. He was clutching the body by the hair, not caring about the respect he had to show for the dead.

However, as he stared at you, you could see that he was scared. He didn't want you to see this.

"...Darling..." He whispered. "...Darling I-..."