She blatantly ignores his earlier comments, smirking at his pretend ignorance, allowing her slave to answer for himself. "This one is called Thomas, sir," he replies, quietly; unlike her, he looks quite afraid of the entire situation, as he very well should be. As far as Draiss can discern, aside from a very very basic magic protections woven over him, he has no exceptional abilities of his own. "You know very well what I meant. This little mortal here didn't exist, back then. But, certainly, you saw it. The hole in the roof, the battle in midair, as everything went to Limbo." She arches an eyebrow, studying his reaction. "Or... did you forget? Blinded by your limited, mortal senses? Or, perhaps, the pain and anguish of death, instead of the exhilaration of so much power coursing through you, reshaping your very existence?"