For a moment, Leon's pride stung and he felt a sharp retort building in the back of his head, threatening to make even more noise than Elthel had with her tirade. After all, the last time she had been here, she lost half her party and nearly got her... boss? lover? both? It didn't matter right now... Killed. Even if the man had been the one responsible for making the decision to meet Gunalar, they had already failed to inflict serious damage on his group before. 

A Maskarran was trained to kill their emotions first though, so he suppressed it and admitted to himself that perhaps she had a point. He was not used to working with anyone other than other Maskarrans so the idea that one person in his group might have more information than the rest had slipped his mind. "If you're done?," he asked, idly wondering what the odds were that the remaining two to four possible targets, assuming they didn't have visitors of their own, were on their way to this very spot. "Thank you," it was his best offer at peace.

"Two more dead," he continued, turning to look through the corridors, "either lead on, or by all means, stay here since we're tied up on kills."

 Part of him was curious at the anger. She had deliberately called him out as a Maskarran earlier, and the name was hardly unknown among thieves and assassins, so he had written it off as unimportant. Regardless, there was a job to do, and they were now over halfway to finishing it if Elthel's numbers had been right.