Diwaniya's sense of what is acceptable in magical study is fairly all-or-nothing. Of course those who are allowed to learn magic at all need to be able to experiment--how else is progress made? He's just left behind an entire underground complex full of hideous mad-scientist experiments. One of them is a breed of dog that literally explodes. Now that he's grudgingly acknowledged her as a legitimate practitioner of magic, he'd be curious about what she's experimented with, but as a colleague would be, not an enforcer of punishment.

That brief pause, and the little hiccup in her recovery, aren't lost on him, but even Diwaniya isn't so socially inept as to comment on it. His gaze lingers on her for a little longer than it might have, but there's no call for interrogating a stranger.

"That wouldn't have been a popular position to take where I come from," he says, a little wryly. "You'd have been called a radical. The more fool we, I suppose, taking all our powers for granted. If you can still use all your magic here, though..." The envy in his voice is almost palpable.