Drusus leaned against the table they spoke at as he listened, crossing one booted foot over the other, shifting his weight from both to just one. He inclined his head, and the room's guttering light lent his features a severe quality. His gaze remained affixed to hers, and as she continued to speak of mages with such intimate knowledge his brow furrowed. Slow at first, a look of idle curiosity, but then his features betrayed something more urgent. He was scrutinizing her intently, her and her words both. It wasn't every day someone claimed to have slain a wizard, much less to his face. He wouldn't believe such drivel usually, but tonight he did.

[i][color=OliveDrab]She's not a braggart, intimidation or not, who here could say if it's true besides her?[/color][/i] he mused, [i][color=OliveDrab]We of the curse are fallible. If anyone could do the job it'd be a cutthroat. Tsk.[/color][/i]

His smile returned, his briefly stormy disposition clearing up as she finished the anecdote. He set his cup aside and laid his hand flat against the table, not far from the drink itself.

[color=OliveDrab]"You know ... it's not often someone has the courage to tell a wizard that they've killed wizards,"[/color] he said, mirthful laughter on the edge of his words, [color=OliveDrab]"I most sincerely hope that it wasn't a threat."[/color] He was quiet for a few seconds, peering at her, smiling, though his gaze was intent, piercing even. [color=OliveDrab]"Either way. I'll take it as sound advice not to cross you. Not that I should have to, considering we're both here for the same thing."[/color]

[i][color=OliveDrab]For ourselves, if I could hazard a guess,[/color][/i] he thought.

He shifted his weight, back to standing on both feet, and unfolded his arms. He stepped away from the table - and his wine - and made his way over to the idol of Skeitha. He examined it was a raised brow, with a curiosity that looked altogether irreverent. There was no religious solemnity, at least not outwardly.

[color=OliveDrab]"I always found the gods of other people to be so interesting,"[/color] he murmured, changing the subject, [color=OliveDrab]"At the risk of sounding pretentious ... I feel a person's faith always says a great deal about them."[/color] He scoffed softly and pulled a Florine Sword-And-Sun Rosary from one of his pockets. [color=OliveDrab]"I am of the Light, myself. Every good Floriner is, or so it is said."[/color]

He pivoted on one heel, turning to face her with the gilded Sword-And-Sun icon displayed in an open, upturned palm. [color=OliveDrab]"What do you suppose, if you care to share? About the Light?"[/color]