[ Medea raises an eyebrow, studying the cup with amusement. And then she laughs and reaches over to accept, taking a sip. ]

Good. I might think it an insult to the sacrifice you offered up if you felt otherwise.

[ She circles her fingertip along the rim of the cup before pushing it back towards Waltaquin. There's a strangely companionable feeling to this, as if they have known each other longer. Psyche certainly made an attempt, this time. ]

Would you be surprised to hear I seldom hunt for sport? But I do believe in honoring my promises. [ Absentmindedly, she taps her fingers on the surface of the bar again. ] Necromancy, is it? Most people can only hope to have the death they inflict truly serve their purposes as they intend.