[A scowl crosses his features at the cheeky explanation.] I know what it means, fiend. Now let go lest I am to cut your arms loose.

[But despite the thread of irritation running through his words, it’s only an idle threat and he knows it, though he doesn’t offer so much as a hint of a smirk to make it that much more obvious. It’s as surreal now as it had been on Terrace, the fact that someone beyond his devils or one of Dracula’s minions under his command would have thrown himself in danger’s way for him, and he frowns at the reminder, wanting to make clear the idea that he didn’t feel indebted to Zevran for his sacrifice. The last thing he would like is for it to be dangled over his head and to be beaten with it at every opportunity until he might return the favour under terms he hadn’t established himself.]

Would you have done the same had you known you would never return here, or anywhere else?