Piqued by the man, Xalia lent down, closer to him. Had he never been a captive before? Even a breath away from death, he acted as though she were the one who ought to be begging him, and that he held power over her! What a strange one he was. The witch pursed her lips. No, something was amiss here. There was a trap, somewhere in this, waiting for her to trip it... Or perhaps she was paranoid. She had spent so much time away from others that maybe she could not recognize fear any more.

"It is often the place of the captured to offer all they have for their life," she pointed out. His next comment, though, and that grin- that grin was far too predatory for one with a knife on his neck. Xalia narrowed her eyes. "I am no different than your priests," she said, though, instead.

Why would she not have Junedith kill him? If he thought it would be because she was lonely or weak, he was quite wrong. But perhaps he did have something that he could offer her, indeed. Or perhaps her first instinct was right, and this was just a trap, for her own life instead. Perhaps he had men waiting in the woods about them, prepared to shoot her at his word... But she would live. Xalia always did. "Why not, dirty man? Why shall I not kill you? What have you for me?"