Zakrian stays lounged where he is as everyone talks at him, platitudes and gratefulness and flattery. The intense heat means while the officials speaking to him may be dressed neatly and formly, he himself is in a thin robe -- light and pale in colour to keep cool. A woman standing beside him makes notes quickly, skin translucent and hair a pale, faded greenish sort of tone falling into short curls.

Once they've finished speaking and pushed Jade forward there's a moment of silence, as if he's contemplating the gift, then he looks up toward her questioningly. She leans in and whispers to him in a harsh, clicking sort of language and he nods finally in acceptance.

"A trophy," he says finally, accent heavy on his words. "Was he a warrior, then, mm? A man of battle? He does not look like he puts up much of a fight. Eh?"

He smirks slightly, as if this is terribly funny, and pushes to his feet so he can pad over to inspect Jade.

"I am surprised you keep him alive, your 'greatest enemy'. Perhaps you find him too handsome to kill, mm?"

Reaching down he slips a finger under Jade's chin so he can tilt his face up, get a better look at him. Perhaps to see if the assessment is true, if he might be too handsome to kill.