Loken is standing over a slain demon, chainsword idling. He looks at the proffered gladius, and his voice rasps through his vox emitter, far less smooth and calm than the last battle they shared.is

"Yes. My... blade. Yes."

He takes it back almost roughly, his movements a trifle jerky, as if fighting his own enhanced body to come down from the kill-urge that fills him and then almost whispers.

"Thank you."