Seven help him. This is the stupidest thing he’s ever done and it’s all he can do not to panic, to keep his face even. Cater’s got about five seconds before he’s smashed to smithereens—whatever he says next has to be convincing enough to stay Riddle’s hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, making no move to defend himself. Even if he tried to shield himself…what good would it do, really. So he keeps his kneel, stares upward into the enraged face of his Housewarden. “I’m honored to die by your hand.”