It's actually reassuring, to hear him speak of convincing him. She would have not trusted a gift, an offer that did not address its price in the same breath. The visions remind her of things that were, blinking in and out of visibility, the Weave commanded to strike and kill, explosions set for the purpose of complete obliteration, the flash of joy entwined with them - but then also a white haired man, with a wary concern in his eyes, a dark haired woman sleeping by firelight. Wisps of smoke, so quickly do they dart away.

"Convincing you," she says slowly. "What might that entail? Ensuring it was worth your while?"