He seems to have hit a nerve. That wasn't his intention. 

"True. Perhaps the black one knows something we don't."

"Perhaps, yes. We will see."

Zevran places a bet down on the black nug, waving off the dwarf's insistence that the odds on it weren't great, and settles in to drink his ale.

Sten places one hand on Blaze's shoulder, his version of comforting.

She leans a little into the touch, and settles in to watch.

Well, would you look at that? The black one sped out, hopping much faster than it's fellows, much to the dismay of many betters in the room. 

The spotty one hopped once, languidly, and then pauses to sniff at someone's hand.

Blaze sticks her tongue out at Zevran.

"Consider me well and truly taught, Blaze. Though I reserve the right to be bitter about it for at least an hour."

"By all means. I believe I'm supposed to gloat."

Zevran sighs dramatically. "I guess I must bear it."

"However you did bet on the correct one."

"Following your hunch, as I recall."

"Quite."

"Quite," Zevran parrots.

"Are we leaving now? Some of the short-mouths are staring at me."

"I think we're done here."

"Why don't you two go on ahead? I might have found something to entertain myself with."

Disbelieving eyeroll.

Blaze looks briefly conflicted and then nods.

"Come on, kadan."

Then she'll follow Sten.

Sten heads back to the inn, one hand on Blaze's shoulder the whole time.

Morrigan and Anwen are outside, Morrigan staring at Sten in that unnervingly admiring way she does.

Anwen is just scowling at anyone who dares try and use the door.

Blaze shrinks a little against Sten.

Morrigan catches Blaze's eye, and grins wolfishly. 

"Little witch! Here I was in need of entertainment, and along you come."