[ Medea laughs, sharp and unfeigned, as though the sound has been startled out of her. ] Ah... I begin to understand why she called you "honest."

[ An almost comical assessment, but not without basis. The corner of her mouth lifts in wry acknowledgment of the contrast, and of Waltaquin's tone. She reaches for the glass again, allowing her fingers to barely brush Waltaquin's in curiosity. ]

Are you asking my personal opinion? Or what it would be, as empress? Because I would find my reign rather shameful if it continued to produce such a volume of corpses for one such as you to make use of.