That hits a nerve and not the one specifically aimed for. Garner's eyes narrow and he stands as he pulls the knife all the way out so he can press the blade to the bends of Fenix's fingers.

"I am part of no cult." Not one he'd know of, a whisper offers and he hates that he can't tell if it's his own mind or planted.

"Names, Fenix. I won't cut off my fingers, but perhaps yours will do."