Zevran gave a rather less sincere sigh. "I have been told I have a crude sense of humor, actually. I think I like 'malicious' better." But he held his tongue on the matter of just whether--or how much--Eddie's behavior irritated him. He knew well enough that to outline the ways in which the other man annoyed him would only make them increase. Besides, admitting, at least verbally, to being irritated would be a defeat. Better to simply smile and let it roll off of him.

Which was what he did now, with a mock-abashed little shrug. He gave a little bow. "Indeed there are other ways." He fell silent again to listen to the more professionally interesting information being doled out. The following sigh was truer and more wistful. "I used poison back home, yes, and made it myself when I could. There are other ways of crippling an enemy--one might take out their eyes, or destroy their knees--but poison is by far the most universal." And, perhaps, the most artistic, but he wouldn't admit to that kind of sentimental streak. "But the ingredients are different here. You have no deathroot, no demonic ichor found in the hearts of beings possessed by demons. And if there are minerals that can be mixed with the right acids to coat a blade in flames or frost, I have not found them yet."