A tiny bit of relief whispers through her when he concedes that, at least, and a little more when the subject shifts, even if it isn't an altogether comfortable one. Still better than before. Sonia looks away, lips pressed together, and her hand goes to the bandage cut on her forehead -- discreet, and partially hidden by her hair, but bruised around the edges.

"That woman -- Tarn. Tarn is out there."

It isn't the whole reason, sheer Vorish pride plays a major part in it, but that fight is still so fresh so as to leave her still shaken.