Her first question really puts him off, it screams of naivety and bullshit and he's rolling his eyes before she says you wouldn't be entirely wrong and then he has to rein his eyes in, pretend he's on the verge of sneezing so he has to rub his face, or something. It's not smooth. Those eyes constantly on his aren't helping. It's not like the way Hecate looks at him, which makes him feel like she's watching and not-watching at the same time, as little sense as that makes. Like, he gets the feeling Hecate sees everything but she doesn't watch him like this woman is doing. (Not woman, Goddess, he reminds himself, but it's a quiet reminder— right at the back of his head, drowned out.)
He licks his lips and wishes he has any of his drink left like she does, he wants something to fiddle with. If he was having this conversation with Marcie he'd grab his phone and look at that instead of looking at her, it's too real. It's too close.
"Damn right it's failure to nurture then," he can't stop the words escaping, doesn't think better of it till much later. He pushes himself back in his chair, not to leave, just for a little more space. He feels awkward and tangled as hell as he agrees with her. "That's people fucking up the next gen down, so yeah, no, you got it—" He swallows hard. He doesn't know for sure what conversation she's having now but he can't stop thinking about Lil T. Bout who's nurturing him and what he's growing into.
Bout how their run across the country was a great deal of work and also a massive stinking failure.