Emilia does not flinch, does not look away, but her chest does crowd with indignation and horror. It's a fire in her lungs, and she could exhale smoke if she isn't careful. "Of course I do," she says, the tenseness of holding that back almost coloring the tone of her voice, swift as she is to answer him.

"Was it because of ... your abilities?"

No reason would make their actions anything but deplorable, but it goes without saying Wrathion is special in his own way. She wishes she'd acted out on her threats that day, futile as they might have been.

The woman would have well deserved it.