He was patient, waiting for Ella to finish pouring the rum over the cool cubes of ice. Why had Marken even set out two glasses of ice? It wasn't some subconscious thing, he'd made the conscious effort to pour the second glass. With a shrug, Markens addled mind couldn't quite remember why, just coming up with it being some kind of gesture of peace, as if a mere glass could do that.

After she'd had a long drink of the heavy brown liquid, Marken would sigh and set his own half-empty glass down. "Why? You looked at me like I'd stabbed you when I defended myself from that assassin. And I defended you. Why did you scream and yell? I didn't want to do it, you know, and yet you acted like I did it with glee... Why?" His voice conveyed pain, very clear and very obvious pain. He'd gone out of his way to trust Ella, and this was how she'd repaid him. By very nearly killing him in his sleep, and then screaming at him when her kidnapper was slain by him. It didn't exactly look good to the normal person, hell it didn't look good to Marken!

As she spoke and tried to convince him that she was right, or wrong, in some way. Try to convince him to forgive her. He wanted to forgive her, not for her crimes, but so he could just forget it. It would all be alright if he just forgot it happened, right? Sighing, Marken took another draft of his rum as he listened.