Forge smoothly waved her sharp comment away, letting his dark eyes fall closed. He had not said it as a sales pitch, honestly he had said it more for his own benefit than hers. He was entirely aware of how hated his inventions had made him, that kind of a burden could be heavy to carry, reminding himself of all the good they did, the protection they offered, helped ease this weight. She did not need to understand or even know, but Forge needed it for himself.
He took a slow drink from his glass, which had suddenly grown rather empty. He motioned to the tender to pour him another shot's worth, it seemed he was not going to be relaxing easily tonight. He took in a slow breath, the mixture of alcohol, cigarette and cigar smoke which filled the air comforting and familiar by now. So many hours wasted away here with a chilled drink and his own thoughts rattling around in his skull, it was almost dreary to think about. Almost.
He allowed the conversation of the collars to fall away, as it was clearly not desired. His gaze flicked to her face for a moment at the mention of the funeral, he attempting to gauge her reaction to what he was fairly sure was a slip of the tongue. She did not seem the kind to pour her heart out to a strainer, and her sideways glance confirmed this. "I am sorry to hear it, may they find peace in the next life." The words flowed easily off his tongue, living on Revolve, death became a regular part of life. One never became numb to it, but it became easier to cope with, to acknowledge and then allow it to pass by, at least that was how it was for Jonathan.