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She wasn't backing down and Zolf was annoyed that they were at odds because of Wilde, of all people. But he couldn't help the thrill of pride welling up at seeing Sasha holding her ground against him, even if it was for something so petty.
He took her hand, stopping her mid-sentence. Her skin was cold and clammy, and he held it gently. Their adventures in the sewers had left their mark on her, too.
His own pride prevented him from praising her defence of that idiot, though. So he kissed her hand with gravity.
“We’ll hear him out, then.”