If I were going to try to force an escape by killing myself, you wouldn't have been able to bring me back here.

[There's not an ounce of hesitation in the reply, and the foreigner himself shifts to step forward. As he does, one hand rises to remove his earring, then his hair clasp - both of which he places in front of Childe on his way past.

It's something of a reminder - that he did still have some measure of option, and that he's relinquishing them in front of this man. He isn't beaten yet, and he doesn't plan to be.]

Your familiarity with my parts is not reassuring, nor is the evident inevitability of your intention. Acting like a child who has never been rebuked will not endear me, if you truly do want to know my name.

[Even so, he threads fingers through his own hair, letting it fall down his back and obscure Childe's shameless view as he moves to climb into the tub. There's no sense in postponing this part of the process, and honestly... his body aches fiercely. Getting clean and seeing the actual extent of his injuries will be a boon itself.

He pays no mind, then, to the bloom of red that immediately snakes over the water's surface, long-dried blood warming to be wicked away.]