Do I even need to say that the second Ailee's finger has started glowing he's already put his entire, much taller body, between Ailee and the trash god? Hopefully the Flood can't read backwards letters easily. 

"I'm going to have to shoot her, you know," Lucien sighs to Jackdaw, "One day, I mean. There's going to come a point where shooting her is either going to be the nicest thing we can do for her, or the only way we can get out of something alive." Grimace. 

It's not a threat. The thing that Lucien is imagining right this moment is what would happen if the Flood saw decided it was in a bad mood, and just held Ailee's head and stuck an arm down her throat. Could they stop it? 

Against his will, he's remembering a dinner party, back when he was only another one of His Majesty's Pawns (A8), that ended with silk cord and a change in supervisor. It had lasted longer than two minutes.

He doesn't say that out loud, though. It'll probably be fine. He's just worried.