He's not really in a position to make those kinds of demands. Really, he should be grateful she's not the sort of woman who shaves off her natural eyebrows and paints on even more dramatic ones. Anyway, she believes him. The true parts. Litchkin and demons are hardly the weirdest things she's heard of (or seen). But even her skepticism isn't so finely aimed as to make it clear her issue's with his apparent lack of concern about the blood and how much might have been his own.

"A heroic prince, hmm?" Okay, that skepticism might be a little better aimed. She's got funny ideas about what being a hero entails. But it falters in the face of his easy acceptance of her judgment. Irony, that she'll spare people who probably need more of it for such little kindnesses. "Thank you."

His obvious enjoyment and gratitude makes the corners of her mouth curl up briefly. "You're welcome. The bottles aren't rare here, so don't worry about that. You have plastic where you come from?"