Jeron had already taken a step to leave by the time his savior responded. Frankly, he didn't care how she responded. All that was on his mind was getting out of here before this abominable hail storm ceased and the Zhentarim returned. He was not an elf with manners or tact; he hadn't the chance to learn about social etiquette, further hampered by the fact that he had grown up learning how to avoid people instead of interacting with them. True, he had interacted and befriended Maura when they were children, but that was years ago. In a sense, his friendship with her had preserved his humanity and had given him enough confidence to speak when spoken to, to offer his opinion, and to know when his opinion wasn't valued... like now.

He whirled around to face the pair again, not caring if his sudden movement was probably a bad idea against a woman with a sword who firmly looked upon him as though he was a monster. "I don't owe you anything!" he spat back. "[i]You[/i] chose to help [i]me[/i] without prompt! I did not beg, plead, or do anything to signal that you should help me, not even as you cut away my bonds, but regardless, you..."

Jeron trailed off. Why did she help him anyway? From the way she kept her sword between them and from the tension in her expression, she was terrified of him. 

Another agonized scream followed a shuddering crash as more ice plummeted into the jailhouse. Upon speculation, all of this was linked to his savior freeing him. Her actions didn't make the least bit of sense. Why go through all the trouble to help him? There had to be some ulterior motive to this. Perhaps someone was paying bounty hunters a hefty reward to bring back the heads of Drow. They would lead him into the woods, away from the Zhentarim, and claim their kill as their own. This was undoubtedly a trap. Anyone with sense would simply turn and go.

Jeron lingered, however, due to another reason...

Magic had always fascinated him. Though being nomadic was an act of survival, seeking magic gave his travels a purpose. He learned a little about magic from Maura, and her death branded in him the desire to learn more. He needed power to avenge her death, craved it to finally be in control of his life, to no longer live in fear....

The problem was that his visage prevented him from finding a suitable instructor. Anyone with any magical know-how would likely fling a fireball in his face before pausing to hear his plea to learn. Stealing books was dangerous. All that he knew came from observing practitioners at a distance, which didn't yield many results. He had traveled here in hopes that he could glean something from watching the renowned Elminster, and had been immensely disappointed to find no trace of him and his home in ruins. 

As terrifying as this current hailstorm was, it was undeniably powerful. This woman or the man she was trying to save could teach him this power. Though the conversation was tense and not at all pleasant, it was still a [i]conversation[/i], which was more than he had gotten from anyone without violent, physical lash-back in several years. What if these people weren't bounty hunters? What if, for whatever unfathomable reason, this woman decided to help him because she somehow knew he was not a danger to anyone? Not yet, at least.... This was the closest chance he'd have of obtaining a mentor that he would ever get. Despite the risks, he had to see this through, had to hope that he could at least walk away from the Dalelands with [i]some[/i] progress in his studies. Without hope, there was no reason to live with so much cruelty in this world.

"Fine, I will help both of you escape," he remarked curtly, "if you will teach me what you know about your power. I am in need of instruction about the Weave and you could help me with this. If you decline, you will never see me again. Considering the situation, it would be unwise to refuse."