I know what an assassin is, Zevran! [ If there hadn't been a snap before, there is now, her voice like a horse whip across the crystals. The simple moment of feeling condescended to setting her off properly. ] Is that what you tell yourself, when you touch him, to make it fine? Being monstrous is not the same as being a monster, nor is it the same as fucking one--

( Martel had caught the beginning of this - and has listened as it progressed, tracked the rise of Sabine’s voice and ire, but it isn’t a conversation that needs what you would describe specifically as ‘his input’. In fact possibly it does not immediately need anyone’s further input, which is rather the thought behind what he does when he finds her: separates, rather firmly, elf and crystal. )

Perhaps there are better places for this--

[ The sudden stream of rapidfire Orlesian swearing is a dimmer undercurrent to Martel more reasoned voice, breaking back into King's tongue with; ] Give that-- give that back to me-- Martel!

( her voice becomes progressively more muffled, and by the time Martel speaks an experienced listener may realise that he has stashed her crystal within his jacket, along with his own; almost gently, )

Enough, now.

( nothing, after. )