--mollified, somewhat, Gwenaëlle is a touch less sharp when she reconsiders Herian in light of that, sitting back, hands folded over her book. (When she isn't opening her mouth, she does at least look a pretty picture of a young lady; a bit more solemn than is considered sweet and styled too sleek and dark to be considered fashionable, but lovely enough. And then she speaks, and what sweetness there is tends to shatter.)

"Yes," she says, after a pause, succinctly. "But they are. We don't get to behave based on the world we want to live in, just the one we actually do, which is a world in which everyone has to be nice to the--"

Gwenaëlle does not say fucking elves. She catches herself, moderates her tone, says, "Which is a world in which they have a place here. Apparently. I try not to pay them any mind at all, which I understand is how they ordinarily prefer things, but it's." How to put this. "There are people in the Inquisition who I would not like to see harmed because of what they might do to its reputation. I felt it was appropriate to mitigate that in the small way that I can. And if and when someone needs to do something more permanent, we are surrounded at all times by large people with big sticks."

...yes.