Ah. Hrm. It turns out? There’s a difference between the honeyed words of a guest, offered in hopes of teasing out some family secrets, and a hero of legends wholeheartedly singing your (slightly embellished) praises. And the mental training required to smile and nod in response to the former offers shockingly little defense against the latter. Dolce buries his face in his hand. It does nothing to hide the embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks. “That’s not…[i]exactly[/i] how I worded it.” And how had he explained the miraculous change that’d come over Bella, hrm? If he looked at it, out of the corner of his eye, perhaps he could see the shape of the journey from his words to Prion Paula’s declaration. Perhaps. And perhaps he’d better just start at the beginning. Before any more heroes decide to explain for him. Captain Dolce straightens in his chair, and coughs lightly, to give his hand a thin excuse for its position before he returned it to his lap. “Before the battle on Salib.” Deep breaths. As direct as he could. She did request as such, after all. “We held a council of war, to decide our approach, and our objectives. Which included what to do with you, if given the opportunity. We didn’t know how we’d find you, and I decided we couldn’t afford any confusion or disagreement in the heat of the moment.” A difficult decision. Argued fiercely on both sides, despite the clear majority. The voices still ring in his ears. The passion, and the hurt. His eyes fall to his folded hands. His fingers clench uncomfortably. “I opened the floor to the matter. The crew had their say, for and against. And in the end, I made the decision to offer you a chance.” And here you are, having actually taken it. Is that relief he feels? Or regret? “...I didn’t think kisses would be involved, but I can’t say I’m surprised?” He gives a little shrug. “Aphrodite’s been involved, after all. The possibility was always there.” So says Captain Dolce,of the Golden Fleece, Ram of War, whose obsidian eyes always knew strength from weakness.