Eugene puts it better than he could, probably, and Jack nods dumbly in agreement, fingers still twisted nervously in the apron and apprehension prickling through him, all the more sharply for having been snapped at and his feelings questioned so bluntly. It wasn't just that question. Zevran had already been told the answer to that question dozens of times, in words and actions alike, and they all knew it. There was something else, another question or even a statement, and he just hadn't said it yet.

"Or mean to take advantage of it, I guess," he amended, trying again, still hunting for that unlikely hope that there was some discrete objection. Something he could fix. "If we did something, said something that made you feel like that, we can do literally whatever it takes to make it better, promise-"