"Nice to know politics are the same everywhere," Zevran comments as they walk past the bodies, wrinkling his nose.

"Yay," Blaze murmurs.

"I wonder if Azry will have to choose who to put on the throne. Considering her luck, probably."

"-Does that sort of thing happen often?"

"Literally everywhere she goes. Before I joined them she had to talk an immortal elf into giving up his immortality to stop a werewolf curse he created. It sounded like a fable when Alistair told me. Either a fable or a very well-constructed lie."

...Blaze isn't entirely sure what to do with that.

"Yes, that's the reaction I had. I honestly could not believe that someone as angry as Azry could have the patience to talk reasonably to anyone. Not that I have much of a right to say that, considering how we met."

"...How did you meet?"

"I have mentioned that I'm an assassin by trade, yes?"

"You have."

Zevran gestures to Azry. "Not a very good one."

"...What made you not?"

"Her beating me into unconsciousness."

"-That would do it."

Zevran laughs. "Wouldn't it just? When I woke up, she had me tied up, and questioned me very angrily. I did what I do best, and flirted her into letting me live."

That gets a slight giggle. "I think it was a bit more complicated than that."

"No! That was it! I told her we could use the rope for far more pleasurable things, and she untied me and that was it!"

"...Weird."

Azry, having caught the last bit of their conversation, drops back.

"It most certainly was not. I believe we let you live on the caveat that you make yourself useful and maybe we wouldn't kill you? And that was after you swore your life to my cause."

"See, Blaze? Just as I said. Flirting."

Blaze looks away, shaking her head with a small smile.

"She's right to doubt you, you couldn't flirt your way out of a paper bag."

"Why would I need to? I have knives for that."

And that's outright laughter.

Zevran's grin is huge. "Mocked. Mocked at every turn. Is this to be my life?"