Victor Reilly turned the knife he had pulled from Grissom Montag's belt over and over in his hand. He realised that the cold spot he had seen in the small of Montag's back could easily have been a mobile phone or coin purse. In which case, he probably would have gotten his teammates killed.
Victor wondered briefly whether he should feel guilty about not actually caring whether or not that happened. He then remembered that he wasn't capable of feeiling guilt, and reverted back to his usual status of detached observer.
"And Mister... Reilly, is it?" Montag asked.
"Yeah," Reilly said, keeping his head forward and not bothering to turn it toward the speaker. There was no real point if he couldn't see them.
"May I have my knife back? I need it. For slicing apples and such."
Victor paused for a moment, weighing up whether or not to actually give it back. He decided that a man of Montag's resources was best to keep as an ally, tactically speaking. At least, as much of an ally as is possible after breaking into a man's house and liquor cabinet.
Victor threw the knife across the room towards Montag. It stopped in mid air inches away from the man's face, held in place by Phil Smith's telekinesis.
"Sorry. I'm recently blind, you see," Reilly said.
