"They have, have they?" Her tone is not entirely unlike that of an adult humoring a child. Even behind her mask it's clear as day her expression is scrutinizing and dubious.

Touch is still something she is acclimating to (prior to her awakening it had been years since she last experienced it so casually—mere weeks cannot make up for that), and so his taking of her hand causes her to tense. A fraction of a momen later has Azem let out a small breath and relax, accepting the marker with a quiet murmur of thanks.

The boy-man speaks again and his words earn himself a scoff.

"'Waste any resources'," she echoes, almost in disbelief at how ridiculous a statement she just heard. "What resources? Because I assure you I have more than enough aether, and would hardly consider you a waste of it."