Plaything in one's palm
It was a dangerous path.
He forced himself to relax minutely against Caius's side, a gesture of false acquiescence. He even managed to curve his lips into a faint, polite smile for the benefit of anyone watching. It was the most difficult performance of his life. Inside, his mind was a riot of hatred and confusion. His hands, hanging at his sides, were clenched into tight fists, his nails digging crescents into his palms. The sharp, physical pain was a grounding anchor, a reminder of the reality he could not afford to forget.