Lorgar's voice broke the sudden, almost frozen silence in the compartment as he watched Grom stare unblinkingly at Anna.
He remained reclined against his chair, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his Dataslate. A hint of amusement gleamed in his golden eyes as his gaze traveled between the rigid Dwarf and Anna, who had just emerged.
"Hey—hey—hey—"
"Shorty, what are you staring at? Your eyes are about to pop out. Never seen one of the Men of Iron before?"
The voice struck like a thunderclap, wrenching Grom out of that instinctive trance of shock, confusion, and faint, nagging discomfort.
His whole body jolted. Like a rusty gear being forced into motion, his short, thick neck turned stiffly toward Lorgar.
His small eyes, still round with utter astonishment, reflected the Primarch's expression of amused anticipation.
Grom did not immediately respond to Lorgar's teasing.
First, he blinked hard, as though making certain he was not hallucinating, then whipped his head around for another glance at Anna.
This time, it was a quick, confirming glance, sweeping over the long silver-white hair that shimmered with a cold metallic sheen under the compartment's soft lighting, then over those azure eyes that seemed to freeze the purest glacier and the deepest Starry Expanse together.
Her inhuman perfection struck him again, but more than anything, it was that lingering sense of something alien.
He shook his large, shaggy head, trying to shake off that inexplicable mixture of unease and fascination, his thick beard trembling wildly.
Then he seemed to recover his voice at last, though what came out had the typical Dwarven bluntness that so often turned shock into outright rudeness.
Instead of looking at Anna, he turned toward Lorgar and all but shouted at the Primarch, his rough voice still carrying a trace of