[If there is anything so incongruous as a twinkle in Ortus' eye at Gideon's tossed back, exuberant outburst of feeling, it is swiftly squelched. He is given to wallowing in his own emotions. That does not mean he is incapable of appreciation of flight.]

I am given to understand that 'making anything weird' is one of my foremost talents, aside from poetry.

[A dry, rustling effort at a joke, self-deprecation not as harsh as he might otherwise let it be. If she does not wish for him to fall on a blade (or to run him through by one), he will not gainsay her.]

I will endeavor to restrain myself from the exercising of that skill. [And then, in almost instant contradiction:] As I will strive to prove worthy of your trust.

[He smooths his robes over his knees, fastidiously, attention focused on flattening all wrinkles he can perceive. It takes as long as it may for Gideon to school her own reaction to that, whatever it might be.]

Shall we return to the house, or do you wish to remain here?