[Renoir sits with some slight discomfort, being accustomed to a life spent with nobody but loved ones. The expeditioners he had commanded. Those people had been associates, companions who came together for a common cause, but they had not been family.

He rests his cane against the bench, then raises his free hand. I'm fine, he says. Thank you. But I don't need anything. How can he face her should she arrive and find him weak?

But her last comment? It almost makes him smile.]

Perhaps we've earned such a reward simply by offering our support.

[He thinks purposefully, lips drawing together.]

But I am not rushing to demand their presence here. We all deserved to make that choice, no?

[They had had no choice to come here. He would not impose that on them. Much as he truly would because then he can keep them safe.]