"Unexpected," he parrots, tilting his attention back. There's a flicker of amusement lurking at the corner of his mouth as if to say, 'What unexpected thing could you possibly be wary of?'

Only, yes. He supposes there is that possibility—gods only know what lurks in that place, and they are allegedly not even the gods either of them might ostensibly he familiar with—and so that flicker of mean pleasure is smoothed away. Tucked into some pocket. Ralston's features adopt a more straightforward arrangement. Measuring.

"Are you asking me to keep you safe, General?"