[at the very least, Zhas does not seem upset with her. he listens to her explain, still looking over the wounded thug. he tightens his fingers into a fist, lets them go again. several times, very controlled. it wasn't much of a high, but it still takes him a moment to come down, get out of that zone.
he has nothing to say, immediately. he sets his jaw; something he does when he's thinking.]
Child of a god of murder.
[he tilts his head a little. he's looking at the body, but he'd meant that to be towards her. he also meant it to be a question, but good luck figuring that out from his flat, gravelly tone.]
no subject
he has nothing to say, immediately. he sets his jaw; something he does when he's thinking.]
Child of a god of murder.
[he tilts his head a little. he's looking at the body, but he'd meant that to be towards her. he also meant it to be a question, but good luck figuring that out from his flat, gravelly tone.]