"Ah." His expression grows less open by degrees, the almost boyish smile slowly dissolving back into something more guarded. Without thinking, he reaches for his beer and takes another, longer sip. "Er - you're quite right."

She is, after all. It's common sense that their coin - the charity he's currently drinking away - will only stretch so far. And he's seen her glance over in her twin's direction repeatedly tonight. Even a bit inebriated - and God, does he suddenly wish he were more so - Percy can put the pieces together. She doesn't want the others to be aware, and she particularly doesn't want her brother to know. Any interest she might have is finite, its boundaries limited to the margins of the world where no one else is looking.

It's sensible and likely wise; it'll keep everyone happy and preserve all the interpersonal dynamics he doesn't know anything about. She's keeping him from making his time with her comrades a short one via his own stupidity. He really ought to be grateful.

It's a pity, then, that all he feels is a cold, heavy stone lodging itself in his chest.

"Well," he adds, trying and failing to summon back that elation of having been the subject of someone's affection, "I'll, uh, I'll look forward to our next town."