Sabine doesn't look too taxed to be told the woman is straightforward. It's better to know what she's going into when that meeting takes place, and who better to tell her than someone who's known her their whole life? He's relating it as a warning, an inherent suggestion of another option, but it's not a reference against who Yen is. It's a careful line; in many ways, Sabine recognizes how she might speak of Jack at specific points.

Protective, understanding, honest, a little warning, but no insult.

She catches the murmur, though not the words, but the prickle across the more of her than contains itself in such a small space as she appears that catches it more. She doesn't look around her. Two decades spent living this life and form, she's chosen, and has no regrets in the constant choosing of, in the being returned to when waking up here, means she's good at this.

(She'll pick Jack every time; body or not.
It doesn't matter if he doesn't remember that.)

Her gaze narrows shrewdly, curious, sidestepping his well-worded warning for the first response. "Is that one of the things you teach your students?"