"I'm not some--I mean, I'm not afraid to kill people." She told him, feeling more like a pouting child than an adult trying to assure someone she was assassin material. "I have killed people. Not just corpses--real people." It's not even that she wants to be an assassin--she just doesn't want someone like Zevran to think that she's weak. That she would grow faint at the idea of taking a life. For the most part, someone viewing Beleth as such a delicate creature served her well, but Zevran was different. She wanted him to know that she was capable.

But his offer was still kind, still almost overwhelming. Beleth hesitated for a moment, then moved, crossing the small space in the tent to plant her lips on Zevran's cheek, if he would allow it. A token of her feelings for someone who was willing to help her, and make her even better than she was.

For someone who believed that she was worth something.

"Thank you, again. I don't know how I'll ever repay you for this."