[Hm. It is possible that this is in fact the shape of things at the moment, but Qrow's expression betrays his skepticism almost immediately, especially at that last part. It brings to mind that same moment in the snow, but it's likely a different part of the memory that stands out, for Qrow.

A moment of silence lingers between them and Qrow's slightly raised eyebrow, and then he has to ask, voice steady and solemn:]

Did they diverge, or did you run because he was angry?

[It's a pointed question, deliberately phrased, but Qrow doesn't linger on it. Instead, he lets his own expression ease back out into something light, almost amused.]

Because I gotta say, if the guy's willing to let you drink his blood, I'm pretty sure that's not a door shut in your face, actually.