The offer is enough - when has it ever not been? From Taravast to here, the mere company of him has been a comfort. This time he hasn't even brough out his musical instrument to soothe whatever angry spirits haunted her.

Those spirits went quiet, around Serthica. As if they had chosen to stop, one day. She's more herself now, she has been more herself nowadays, but clearly something still haunts. The violence of this final stand battle, it can be safely said, is so much more different than what she went through at Hogwarts. That had been a mad dash to find the crown, to escape the Room of Requirement, to keep Death Eaters away from their children. She'd been a shield, but she knows now that she'd been a child about it still, her curses mild, aimed to subdue and not maim.

She's more a knife now than she's ever been.

She rests her head against Sizhui's shoulder when he finishes speaking, the cup held in both hands in her lap, and allows the words to sink in.

"I think we're safe, I don't find joy in the killing." A soft little laugh. "I mean, take me out if I ever start, Sizhui. I'm not turning into some Dark Wizard in this place."