[The grimace on the rogue's face deepens at the insistence that he's lying.] I'm not holding anything back from you. It's not my way with you, and hasn't been for a while.

[The incident of Yvain notwithstanding. This is so far from that.]

And I'm not afraid of him, [he rebuffs. And he's not-- or so he thinks. He's wary of what all of this means.] If anything, he's afraid of me-- or was, anyway. [It's what settled some of his immediate hostility. Unless it's the result of a job being upended by the target unexpectedly, fear speaks to him of sincerity.

But she's been right about him letting his cart get ahead of the horse with his snap gut judgements before. Aloïs sighs.]

All right, then how would you approach something like this? [There's a touch of stubborn grumbling there, but he's listening.] Because the way I feel, I don't want touch this with a ten foot pole.