[He nods. Even if it's in a wave of braggadocio, it's not something done in jest or at her expense; he believes she probably could. Well, her, and many others here who seemed to have untold powers, though all were afflicted with the greatest irony that they couldn't really use them. With all of them combined, they most likely could.

It seemed very unfair, particularly when the Regency seemed able to pull out whatever stops they wanted.

He doesn't do much to stop the hair ruffle, though his expression drops a moment. Not so much in aggravation, but more... sheepishness. He's still getting used to things like this.

It's when she continues that he acts a little strange, straightening up a little bit, expression growing slightly conflicted. She's... right, in a way. Not entirely, but even with what little he did keep hidden, it didn't amount to much when he was in the company of people powerful enough to be gods.

To agree would be lying, though. And this was Mordred. They had known one another for quite a while now; they had even shared a cell for a decent portion of that time. He speaks up after a moment, voice slightly stilted.]

That is not entirely true.

[He has only spoken of his curse a few times; he still lacks the ability to speak of it easily. He considers proper words for a moment before continuing:] I am afflicted by something which can give me great strength, but I must be cautious in using it. It is dangerous, and my power over it is... limited.

[His gaze has drifted somewhat, but he returns it to Mordred now, his eyes clear and honest.]

Even with this, however, I do not compare with many others I fight alongside here. I understand this. So I do try to help in other ways; you are right in this.

[But he can fight. He has, even if the blood he sheds is something that is burdensome for him to bear and carry.]