He remembers, rather distinctly, her startles at minor magical effect, having dismissed it, or even used it as confirmation that the woman who had turned up in the pouring rain at the gate was no apostate or runaway Circle mage. It isn't a thing that niggles at him now. Plenty of mages fear their own ability, the abilities of others. He only thinks of it, as she says that.

Marcus nods once at that. "Because you had to," he says. "Because I saw something you wouldn't have shared. Something like that could well happen again, with someone else."

A Templar, maybe, or any non-mage at all who can't mind their business. Studies her, noting the paleness to her skin, the hush in her voice.

"It's alright," he offers.