[ It is an uncommonly real acknowledgement, and Ozpin is quiet another moment in its wake. They have never spoken like this before, not really: Qrow acknowledging his grave flaws and then continuing the conversation without hesitation or rancor. As though it's easy.

Perhaps it will be, in time. It's been so very long since he had any sort of confidant. ]

He has not been overly receptive to that conversation.

[ Which is a hedging and mournful way of saying no, they've simply opted to get blind drunk and duck the subject in the face of mortal peril. ]

But I cannot blame Stanford for his reluctance. [ This isn't even a good lie; Stanford's reluctance is, to his mind, almost the whole of the roadblock before them. Ozpin keeps his gaze fixed out the window. ] I was not all he thought I was, and so our paths diverged.

[ As Qrow's did, once, in the snow. ]