That comment is met, for a moment, with silence. With a long pause, with no flicker of expression on his face — and then the eventual narrowing of his eyes, soft and studious, until he slowly pulls them away from her to settle them on some safe middle distance three feet from nothing. A moment after that, his head drops, and he nods slowly at the ground.

At length, he concedes it with a slightly tired, faintly hoarse, "Yeah."

He did. He doesn't have to ask what she's talking about. It only happened the once, and it's not a hard conclusion to make given what he knows she's seen today.

What he's not sure about is whether he should apologize, and if so, for what aspect of it exactly? A few different things come to mind, but they don't make it to his tongue yet. Maybe he's not that sorry.