If you're anything like your mother, they won't be able to say no.

[Awkward.

His heart skips a beat in that silence that tells him that was not the right place to that that, and finally shakes his head with an averted glance. He can imagine the anger clearly enough, he doesn't need to see it.]

They will. [After all, who says no to that? After picking up wayward refugee one after another, who could turn this down? (But even he can picture all of the sideways glances and excuses pretty clearly.)]

But we need to get out of here first. Intact.