He raises his own glass in return, still smiling, before he takes another sip. And then his contented expression kind of... freezes, just for a second, in place. It's not her fault--she couldn't have known what a minefield that is. It's complicated most days, being what it is, but lately, with the nightmares and the self-doubt? Damn.

"Not always," he admits, the momentary lapse overcome with his usual warmth. "I was torn about it for a long time. My dad was a captain." His smile fades, and his gaze drops to his glass. He wouldn't be this open if he wasn't already so full of beer and tired on top of it, but...

"For all of twelve minutes. He died saving his crew. Including me, and my mother. Part of me wanted to follow in his footsteps but part of me was terrified I wouldn't live up to his example. And then most of me was angry."

He looks up at her again, almost sheepish, and he shrugs. "But I got there eventually. Can't imagine doing anything else with my life, these days."