Cain had been formulating a reply in his mind, when she drops that Basilisk artillery shell on him. He takes a step back in shock, dropping the smoldering filter as his hand instinctively rushes to his hip for a chainsword scabbard that isn’t there. It rolls away, faintly burning, but he's paying it very little mind at this point.

"You’re an Eldar," he says, shock and revulsion mixed in his voice. That he'd been freely conversing with one of their kind, with no awareness that he had been talking with anyone but a human was intensely unsettling. Belatedly, he glances down at the remains of the Lho-stick on the ground, alarm shooting up his spine. “Did you poison me?" he asks, in a strangled voice. His palms are starting to sweat, his mind racing to attribute all manners of ill-intent to the nausea and tingling in his fingertips.