The muscle of his thigh twinges, a giveaway that Kabal not only likes what he sees, but that he's a ball of coiled lust ready to erupt at any moment. He's holding it together now, but it won't last. It can't with how hungry he is.

"I kill whoever I want, whenever I want." Which doesn't answer the question at all. His eyes flick down, taking in Len like he's a piece of meat but one that's dangerous. As if analyzing the best way to come at a caged animal so it can't get at him through the bars.

"You have anyone in mind, or is this a hypothetical exercise?"

His frozen, damaged arm is still a mess, the bandage isn't leaking, but he's nowhere near healed. The fact he can move it at all is a testament to how used to pain he is, but also how much he is not thinking with brain anymore. Well not about that anyway. He has made some calculations about his next move because time is ticking before he needs to pull the mask back on, and he wants to get as much leering in as he can before that.

"I'm not a very good student if that's the case."

His hands grip at Len's waist, roughly dragging him closer, sitting back on his knees so he can attempt to pull him onto his lap. This verbal sparring is cute, but he's only got a limited supply of patience.