[ ... He doesn't understand that flinch, his own confusion rippling across their shared space. He follows that up with the sensation of putting a hand on Drizzt's shoulder, and, softly, ]

The Advocate's a dick.

[ He'd shunned it when it had reached out to him, turning in on himself and refusing to answer. Giving it nothing. ]

Playing games with this is fucked up. Maybe the others don't get it, but there are things worse than death. You're choosing to spare them that because you don't want them to suffer. That makes you a good person.

[ Gentle as his presence is trying to be, there's a finality to his words; Drizzt isn't allowed to argue with the sentiment. He's good, end of story. ]