"Thou know'st I think little of him ordering thee about like a servant," Claudius says with a dryness. He presses back those blood-stained hands. "But it must be seen to. Gideon -- she's lived long beside death, methinks. She's mentioned dungeons full of empty cradles and attacks by revenant saints in the same casual breath I once used to speak of my disastrous flirtation in the kitchen. Only I was trying to make it sound like an everyday occurrence, when it wasn't. I think such things were her everyday. I trust her knowledge about what to do with dead bodies, certainly ... and I've more than enough experience with soldiers who didn't make it." Sometimes, in moods of extravagant self-hatred, he even entertains the thought that those were his first kills. He failed to save them, perhaps even made then worse with war-time medicine, and there were times when he knew a sleeping draught was simply a way to a gentler death. "I will aid her an I can."