By, for once, doesn't argue. He goes to the other end of the rug instead. His teeth are chattering - distantly, he wonders if it's cold, or shock? God, I hope it's cold. I'm not going to let Idiot Ivan Vorpatril see me swooning like some maiden over a dead body. He's seen plenty of dead bodies, hasn't he. Granted, they were nearly all handsomely dressed in House livery or fine gowns to be laid out to rest with enormous dignity. No bodies he'd ever made himself...

"Why, Ivan, I'd almost think from that comment you had experience with upset husbands," Byerly coos. Right, keep focused - focused in on Ivan's misadventures. That's far from the grim task ahead of them. As he grabs and hoists, he says - "I always assumed you were too quick to get caught. There was a story going around Vorbarr Sultana, you know - what was it, six years ago - about you jumping buck-naked from Yvette Vorkalloner's window and running down six city blocks wearing nothing but a strategically-placed stunner holster. They say you ran fast."