Zerxus takes a step forward, sword low at his side but his eyes blazing - not just with fury, but with divine starlight. It adds a strange resonance to his voice, a growl almost like thunder.

"Or you could talk about my husband like that again."

Any lingering urge to save face dies on the wizard's tongue, and he uses it to cast Teleport instead. On himself, of course, not the man trying to haul his ass to safety.

"For fuck's - " The lieutenant swallows the anger and refuses to meet either of their gazes, before turning on his heel and running. Only once he's entirely out of sight does Zerxus sheathe his sword, let himself turn to face something worth looking at.

"Evandrin?" It's almost a different voice entirely, soft and strained and profoundly vulnerable.