Each family gathering infuriated Knives more than the last. On days like these, he considered his parents' absence a blessing. Not that he'd ever considered it a curse.

Humans were nasty, filthy creatures, but your parents... Oh, just the look in your father's eyes, looking you over, trying to find something to pick on for the next goddamn time...

Knives really had to restrain himself from slashing your father's throat with one of his blades right over the white tablecloth.

Whatever Knives wanted, and there were many, he couldn't afford to let it slip. Not yet. The deal was still fragile, and he still needed you as a wife and a support, like all that other crap people bought into when they stamped their passports. He had unfinished business, and he didn't need the attention.

So he sits there silently, clutching your thigh possessively under the table, while your mother fakes another heart attack over your 'lack of manners and respect for your parents.'

He's never touched you like that before, and certainly not in front of your parents. His patience must be wearing thin.