and on to the glory at my right hand
"Sorry - I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting you to say that," Ronin says, flapping a hand and using a napkin to clean himself up, taking a slow, deep breath to try and ground himself again. Holding up his hands as Flora begins anew, he neither tries to argue nor defend against the (very true, ahem) examples she holds up. "Well aware I'm calling the kettle black here," he says gently. "I just meant in terms of how much trouble he tends to bring... you know, everywhere he goes?" He gestures around, as if this very conversation could well be an example.
And if he'd been privy to Flora's inner thoughts (don't worry, Ronin, Jack is going to laugh about it later) he might have considered his feelings thoroughly hurt to learn he was old but not in the same way as a murderous smuggler who didn't give a fuck about anything but his own agenda. "...Right. Alright, but... you love him, Flora? That's a big step. I don't want you to get hurt."
And if he'd been privy to Flora's inner thoughts (don't worry, Ronin, Jack is going to laugh about it later) he might have considered his feelings thoroughly hurt to learn he was old but not in the same way as a murderous smuggler who didn't give a fuck about anything but his own agenda. "...Right. Alright, but... you love him, Flora? That's a big step. I don't want you to get hurt."
ronin
