Malta was sure the elf's comment about having nothing more to say would have frustrated Vahit further. It was likely why he'd sent him away to a man capable of more patience than he withheld. Malta was certainly one of the more easygoing soldiers, but even he had his limits. He did admit some things though, this time of how he's earned the scar no less.<br/><br/>"I don't know why we're looked at as barbarians. Alrian's don't do those sort of things to one another. We reserve that sort of violence solely for our enemies. Your country has it wrong." Malta didn't know what they constituted as more powerful but the notion made them seem little better than animals for all they pretended to be. Like a rat culling the weaker of her pups. Alrian's might not be so cultured but they stood behind their children. He went on about the little girl he was looking for ingredients for using some terms Malta wasn't familiar with. He didn't ask but it still made him curious what the prisoner could tell them of their sick.<br/><br/>Malta's eyes snapped up when the Khry mentioned cutting Alrian's down after they'd been put to death. Had he said it on purpose to kill the mood? All it served to do was piss Malta of, though not as severely as it might have some.<br/><br/>"You may want to be watch how casually you bring up our fallen brothers. We don't need reminders that you are an enemy. A few might do unspeakable things to you for no other reason than it satisfied them and I'm not talking about a uninvolved fuck to scratch an itch." Which was how Malta planned the spend the evening. Hard bodied of other soldiers sometimes did the trick but after the same old thing it got old. Something different and especially offered to him before someone else had a chance appealed to him.<br/><br/>"Better for you that it's me tonight and not someone else. Plenty of the others would enjoy making you scream." They might get the chance depending on how Vahit felt in the morning but that sort of thing did nothing for Malta. He added tea leaves to the water once it got to boiling and then retrieved two tin cups. There was nothing to sweeten the tea, but it was warm, and it was something to break up the usual monotonous tastes. No food would be offered to the prisoner that night. Rations would not be awarded to the elf unless Vahit ordered it but the tea was Malta's own, and his use do with as he wished. He used it now to tempt the small creature closer to him. He worried if he had to descend on him he would break, small and delicate as he was compared to his own tanky body.<br/><br/>"Come here and I'll let you have a hot cup of tea," Malta said, sitting down with both cups on his cot, wondering how difficult he might be. If he tried to run he wouldn't get far. If he acted violently Malta might laugh at him. Few options but Malta felt he was the lesser of two evils. He just wasn't sure the elf truly comprehended that.