No catch. No lie. No trick. Only empathy- a shared sentiment of knowing what it is to be haggard and alone, to not be able to trust anyone. Every day since he was a child, that has been Zevran's life outside of a few shining moments. If he can grant anyone that same light, that same kindness that made the blood and the paranoia worth wading through, then it is something worth doing.

Also it's been awhile since he's enjoyed that lightening trick. He's missed it. So that might be a catch.

He braces himself against Anders to give him something safe to fall into. To lean against while he curls his tongue against the Mage's, that same tang of ozone that he finds in most with power a heady thing. "Mmm?"

Oh, right. Questions of consent. Those are a thing. In a brief moment of seriousness, he rests their foreheads together. "Anders I have killed more people than you in the past six years alone. I have killed children in their cribs, mothers in their beds. What room have I to judge?"

None whatsoever. "Come down with me to the hot springs. I can show you how long I can hold my breath."