Will nodded knowingly. "Yes, well, I know that, but the fact is. you are here. You did come along, and you know why. St. Bart. This is the perfect revenge on St. Bart." Pryne grunted. He picked at the paint peeling from the steel wall beside him, sliding his fingernail into a ragged scratch. He pulled off a thick flake banded with a decade’s worth of institutional gray overlaying sewage-scum brown, chemical-dump yellow, and a thin, probably briefly used strip, of pill-powder white. He tossed the flake to the dirty floor and sniffed at his fingers. "It’s a way. It’s a way at St. Bart."