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>Amusingly point out his acknowledgment that Florence has her own opinion about him is a good place to start
Kitten snorts, downing his yogurt in a single gulp. ‘If you say so,’ he returns, almost neutrally. ‘Going back to the main topic, though … can’t really say that I’m looking forward to spending the next eleven hours having them yapping into a microphone and bringing up my alleged inadequacies. Someone needs to put them in their place.’
You shrug, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with that last sentiment.
‘Nothing really gets you boiling, huh, Wizard?’ Kitten infers, shaking his head as he pulls his elbows off the table. ‘You fly like a madman, but you’re probably as milquetoast as anyone could come off as.’
You mention, pointedly, that the circumstances surrounding your presence here didn’t really give you much wiggle-room to play the “bad boy”; something that you, in return, infer that Kitten was throwing around much too much for a soldier of his experience and discipline. Kitten, in response, lets out a chuckle, almost allowing the jelly to dribble from the corners of his mouth as he takes your words in, cocking one eyebrow dropping his spoon into one of the bowls. If you had to take a guess as to just what he was communicating at the moment, you’d settle your description somewhere between incredulity and genuine amusement. He doesn’t seem angry, however.
‘Touche,’ he responds, wearing a friendly look as he dabbed his lips.
You decide to press on, asking him about other, less topical matters. Kitten really isn’t that bad a person to have keep company; despite his rather dismissive and one-track nature, he doesn’t really come off as arrogant, despite his confidence in his flying skills. In fact, throughout the course of your breakfast, you find him actually inquiring more about you … and letting out the occasional whistle of awe and curiosity, with particular focus during your time as a participant over the Falklands, as a member of the The Intervention Unit and the Special Operations Platform, praising your own exposure to such extensive variations of conflict while lamenting his own lack of exposure. Kitten further reveals that he only really made the cut flying patrols and escort runs over conflicted borders, but had never really properly participated in a full-scale exchange of air power between two sides as you had … and certainly not at your tender age.
‘It’s one thing to ace everything in a controlled environment, right?’ he goes on, both elbows on the table and leaning in to better get his point across. ‘It’s a whole different thing to apply it in actual conflict. All that conjecture gets thrown out the window with a well-placed drop.’
You neither agree nor disagree.
Sometimes failures really were just temporary set-backs.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
You glance at your watch.
Maybe one more would be just fine.
‘What's your opinion on the monarchy?’
