"Thank you. It must not be easy for you," Balthier says, and leans into his hand a bit. "Or her, I suppose. I take it that she's seen one of your -" How to put it? Is that a thing you don't mention in public?
"Your forerunner objects being dangerous," he settles on. "Meanwhile, I'm more uneasy because that particular brand of nethicite is something my father invented. Officially, there's no side effect from sensible nethicite usage. And yet -"
But his arm had something to it, which was visible to two people.