Maverick never moved, seeming to have not heard their would-be dismissals. He peered over them, leaning forward like a living, grinning tower.
"Your soul is black, dear," He said, turning his attention to Anise. She was a curious creature, most people with black souls had dealt with demons and thus were marked. But she had no such mark, it was merely black, just like another he knew. "Do you know the Demon's Merchant, deary?"