Thancred notices, with nothing more than perhaps a disturbing shudder, that he feels the weight of her hand on his shoulder but does not see her in the mirror he was looking at in that moment. Perhaps glamour magicks at work, but not something he cared to think about right now.

The reflection of Lahabrea just scoffs at the woman at her words, whether the offense was feigned couldn't be determined before the glass was shattered. And Thancred flinches just a tad, but sighs in relief once he no longer feels those eyes that aren't his looking at him.

He laughs, morose. "I'll be glad to no longer suffer that bastard's words. My thanks." Thancred offers to her.