"I couldn't begin to theorize," Finch says with a shrug that accentuates the stiffness of his shoulders. "Sadism? Existential installation art? Maybe it's intended to be cathartic. Like horror movies."

He shakes his head at the offer of the jerky stick, no thank you, and bumps one of his feet up under Bear as a substitute for actual petting contact.

The murmured bit makes him glance over. "I'm sorry? Worried about who?"