The sound of his name echoing off the walls had Ber freezing under the sudden weight of everyone’s gazes. Although he didn’t immediately recognize the voice, he didn’t need to in order to recognize the authority in the command, and he turned to see Van Zant standing there with some parchment in hand. Stomach sinking, he tried desperately to think of what he could’ve done wrong this time as he walked over to stand before the sergeant. After the captain commander’s talk with him, Ber had made a concerted effort to keep his head down and not cause trouble, and so far, he thought he’d succeeded. Apparently not. Hands behind his back, he shoved his apprehension aside as best he could and looked at Van Zant. “Yes, sir?”

When Ber approached Kasper kept a straight face for as long as possible then a smirk creeped in, "Don't look so worried Stormcrest, relax you ain't in any trouble, but I do got some questions...," he indicated for Ber to follow him to a bench where he gave the parchment to Ber, "I'm investigating a theory of what happened at the ball," Kasper produced a quill and a vial of ink, "I believe the drinks for the event were tampered with, from personal experience I believe it was spiked and talking to a few fellow officers I believe we were roofied," Kasper tried to be delicate about the situation as Ber was one of the soldiers attacked by the rogue changed werewolf, "I know you probably want to put the night behind you but just one more time: how were you feeling that night? Did you experience a hyper sensitized emotion that you typically never feel?"

Van Zant’s reassurance had Ber relaxing somewhat, though the prospect of questions of a vague nature was only a little more welcome than that of a scolding. Nevertheless, he followed the sergeant to the nearby bench and sat down, taking the parchment with equal parts confusion and trepidation. Writing and Ber went about as well together as werewolves and Ber.

What Van Zant revealed to him was far more interesting anyway, and the soldier considered him thoughtfully as he surreptitiously set the parchment aside. Was it possible that someone had tampered with the wine? He supposed so. Likely, however? Well, that was what they were apparently trying to find out, wasn’t it.

Gathering his thoughts - he had indeed not lingered any longer on the night of the ball than he had to - Ber let out a breath and turned to look blankly at some point in front of him. “Uh,” He began, scratching the back of his neck. “It was— That night was a lot.” In many ways.

As a general rule, Ber did not spend a significant amount of time, if any, reflecting on his feelings in the past or present, and he had even less practice attempting to verbalize them. His mind, of course, had jumped to the predominant emotion of the entire affair, one that still flared to life if he thought about it too much: a righteous, protective fury fueled by the heartlessly unfair way they had treated Zevran.

“You know how when someone hurts someone you care about, you want to go beat up whoever hurt them?” Speaking slowly as he searched for the right words, Ber glanced over at the sergeant to look for any signs of comprehension. “But sometimes you can’t, because they’re someone you know you’d never win against or maybe someone you can’t just punch, like a superior officer.” Or the king. “And that’s usually enough to stop you from doing anything stupid because it’ll just be worse after.” He took a breath. Let it out. Fiddled with his hands in his lap. “It was like that, except without the sense stopping you from being stupid. Where it doesn’t matter who you have to beat up because you know you could fight anyone and win.”

Kasper wished Ber had written that all down but the Sergeant would paraphrase this all later, also he got it, what Ber described.

"So you can typically keep a filter on what you say to someone? You seem the type, like respectful and shit..."

For the most part, Ber was respectful. He had no problems obeying orders he didn’t mind following, but he also had no qualms about quietly pushing back against those he didn’t want to do. After all, he wasn’t writing down his account of the night despite the implicit request. Addressing his superior officers politely, he had found, often went a ways toward earning him more leniency on the more important matters. Like avoiding the written word whenever possible.

“Yes, I can,” The soldier confirmed, nodding. A pause, then, because he couldn’t help himself: “You really think someone spiked the drinks?” His tone wasn’t skeptical but rather genuine. A newly promoted Field Sergeant who had served in the military for years had turned Wulfbrand into a werewolf in the middle of a crowded throne room. Compared to that, someone tampering with the wine didn’t seem at all impossible to believe.

Kasper shrugged, "Allegedy," he offered as a response, "also don't go blabbing yet okay? I'm trying to make sure everyone involved gets held accountable, but off the record..I really do. It's happened to me before, at the Midnight House when I was like fifteen," he stopped talking a hand brushing through his hair, "...also, do you know where I can find @temperance?"

Ber nodded his understanding. “I won’t,” He promised, though his brow furrowed at the brief hint of a story that Van Zant revealed. Nothing about the night of the ball rested easy with Ber, and while he wasn’t hunting for excuses for the way he had acted, he wouldn’t say no to an explanation that included some outside influence.

To that end, he hesitated for a moment, then added slowly, “For what it’s worth, Zevran, the, uh, Dresmondi? The entire time he was here, I never saw him yell at someone like that before.” He couldn’t, with the possibility of Nevermere rescinding aid always hanging over his head. “So in hindsight, I think his shouting at the Huntsman was a little strange.” He paused again. “I don’t— I don’t know if they would want to know that.” Or care. “But just so you know.”

Van Zane’s second question, an apparent non sequitur, was met with a confused look and another nod. “Yes,” Ber said, a slight suspicion creeping into his tone. “Why are you looking for her?” Temperance had nothing to do with the ball.

Kasper appreciated the information, more was better and the conclusion of it all was forming. Still Kasper had a ways to go, "Thanks for letting me know, but yeah I was told she was good with potions I'd like to explain everyone's symptoms and see if there is a potion that would result in the outcome of the ball," Kasper collected the unused parchment paper, "That's all Stormcrest," he'd wait to see if Ber had any other information to share or more questions but from his side of the coin he had nothing further.