Jaime rolled her eyes at his brush off, one arm curling around her middle as she looked away. But this was what she wanted right? This was how she rolled? Scare them off before they could get to you, to hurt you?
"Sure," she muttered, her voice catching briefly in her throat before she turned the opposite direction he was moving, putting her back to him. She dropped her other arm, hugging herself, pressing her arms against her middle as her shoulders hunched slightly.
So ... so what. So what to all of it. She didn't need him. Didn't want him. He was just some cranky old guy who was going to leave her when they found a way home anyway. He had a home he wanted to go back to, after all.
Jaime didn't even think about him at lunch with someone else, because that dug right at her and she didn't know - or refused to admit - why.