Xen gives a long pause, wherein she considers that, well, this might be her last meeting with the flaxen-haired healer on such good terms... a fleeting memory of pale skin, pale hair, supple limbs... she gives a little shiver then turns toward the gate.  "Come too damn far in anyhow..." but after perhaps four or five strides, the disgust and disappointment in her eyes gives way to understanding-- lo, no shit, a realization-- and becomes burning determination.  The savage elf turns back toward where the wounded are being handled.  "Oi.  You."  She shoulders her way up and calls after the captain.  "I want to talk to them.  The ones that fought the Drow.  I want to know what they saw.  Might be more to their skirmish than just territorial pissing."