He should have known better, was Volgin's initial thought as Raikov recovered, then ran away. The whole time, he casually, indifferently surveyed the contents of his bag before slinging it around his large shoulder, toying with the thought of leaving.

Maybe.

Those trembling eyes tugged at a heart string that the giant thought he never could ever have. Those tiny whimpers he could catch bothered him, more than the usual curdling of pleasure as he flaked the tangy caking of blood off his knuckles before another go at shattering the poor fucker's worthless face.

He came to a realization:

He was bothered by this.

... He also hated being reminded that he was capable of some sympathy.

It really was hampering his original intent of getting the hell out of here, and out of the Nexus.

It was not long before Raikov could feel that bumbling monster's presence fill the room as he ducked his head upon entry.