It shouldn't be a comfort to hear someone's killed more than he has. It's not, for Justice. But for Anders it is. In Zevran's eyes he's not some maniac, because Zevran doesn't view himself as one. Or likely doesn't. If he does, Anders doesn't want to know.

He makes a pleased noise at the invitation and brushes his lips against Zevran's once more before nodding. When he steps away and sets the lock and probes down it's with a slightly sheepish look.

"You may only have to hold your breath for a shamefully short time." The kisses alone had stirred his blood, and it's been some time since he's had anything other than his hand. That doesn't stop him from heading that way, though. Nearly nothing would.