Jacques reaches up and lays a hand across one of the elf's on his shoulder. His voice was somewhat soft, almost as if his thoughts were elsewhere.<br/><br/>"I can feel the malignant forces emanating from that camp and its inhabitants. It is safe to assume they are not what civilized folk would refer to as good people, hmm?"<br/><br/>Without really thinking, the 'slinger tilts his head toward Mizrel's other hand, letting his cheek brush against the backs of her fingers.<br/><br/>"There is always the option that we may sic the C.S. forces on them... a risky proposition, and one that would only behoove us if we do not object to seeing every man, woman, and child in that camp slaughtered like cockroaches."