Kirian watches him for a few long seconds after he finished speaking, a smile very slowly spreading across his face. It is odd, to hear someone agree. He'd never spoken of politics in Silvermoon- the walls had ears, there, and he mostly kept his head down and retreated to the relative freedom of Dalaran.

But, of late, he didn't even have that to leave to.

But it was truth, and he knew it. Everyone in Silvermoon did. The Sin'dorei needed the Horde- Quel'thalas was no longer the stalwart kingdom it once was. Pulling away, now, meant being threatened by the Forsaken. Though they were led by a daughter of Quel'thalas, they could not be trusted.

Kirian loathes even these undead.

He takes a drink, smiling to himself.

"I don't speak of politics in Silvermoon, but I suppose it's safe enough, here. I rather agree with you."