[Julian watches as the magician crosses back to the window, his one visible eye narrowed, thick brows pulled tight around a frown. And it's there in him, poised right on the tip of his tongue, an attempt at insistence. Wants to say it again, that surely it would be better to take Cain up on the offer, to be amongst...whatever they were to each other, rather than alone, or with strangers.

But when has Asra ever listened to anything he has to say? So he tosses a glance in Cain's direction, gives a one-shouldered shrug.]

Well. I can't make you do anything. But the offer's been made, and no doubt it'll still stand if you change your mind.

[He doesn't know what else to say on the matter, and whilst he doesn't really understand the reason why, his mood feels once again soured. That Asra's like this, always. As hard to pin down as smoke on a breeze, and twice as distant. He knows he shouldn't be surprised.

It has him falling into uncharacteristic silence for a moment then - contemplative, turned inwards - as Asra pads back across the room towards Cain, leans towards the cup.

The faint glow, and the subtle movement of the magician's tawny hand-- it lets Julian know what's happening, that magic is afoot. He makes a face, looks away again.]

I'm sure the knife would have done the job just fine.