As soon as Ludvig's palm made contact, three spikes shot out to pierce his right hand and push it away. Well within his expectations.
At about exactly the same moment, chains spurted from below his eyesight. The sharp metal sounds they made, grinding into each other and smashing through the thorns that pierced Ludvig's hand, startled him, making him stumble and fall on his bottom.

He sat there on the ground, glanced at his skewered, bleeding hand with the thorns still pegged into it, and then at Amaris' unamused visage towering over him. His eyesight felt dimming, like the only light in the room was the pale woman and her white hair.
He held back a grin as he thought how little he'd regret if she killed him right at that moment. He caught himself thinking this thought, and self-reflected on how incredibly depraved that was, as he listened to her tell-all with [i]veiled[/i] reprimands attached.

He stood up, spikes still lodged through his right hand, yet there was no blood on his hand or clothes. It didn't even really seem to bother him, using his same right hand to rub at the back of his own neck.

[sup]『 [i]Ludvig[/i] 』[/sup] "Nah, it's my fault. I failed to contain my impulsive thoughts. I didn't mean any disrespect, sorry. I-I think I'll just head out now."

Taps Carmen's shoulder. Almost taps Amaris' shoulder, thankfully remembers and reels back his left hand.

[sup]『 [i]Ludvig[/i] 』[/sup] "Sorry, mate. Sorry... Amaris."

Glances at the visibly seething Mirielle and shrugs with his shoulders.
Turns away from everyone, heading towards the nearest door, before glancing back at Carmen.

[sup]『 [i]Ludvig[/i] 』[/sup] "Oh. Which way is the kitchen?"

Even if he didn't answer, his face would've given it away.
The door closes, a little trickle of blood smeared on the doorknob.

[color=gray][sub]A little while later...[/sub][/color]

Kitchen.
Tiny splotches of blood and three iron spikes atop a torn rag on a countertop that Ludvig leaned his back onto. A freshly brewed cup of coffee in hand, three cubes of sugar and a tablespoon of milk stirred into it, in a ceramic cup with a saucer plate. He slowly sipped then sighed away the heat, while glancing out at a window.

[sup]『 [i]Ludvig[/i] 』[/sup] "Adele's daughter... Amanita... Amaris...
	That can't be a coincidence."
	
Another sip.