Again, Martin feels himself pulled up short, and he stares at her in abject bewilderment for several seconds until finally, the only option left to him is to laugh. He drops his head back into his hands, his shoulders shaking slightly as he tries to get a hold of himself.

"I mean," he says haplessly, "yeah. Yes. I... yeah." Christ, this is ridiculous. But she's not wrong, or she's near enough to right that it feels pointless to argue. "He's usually the one stepping in front of me. So I think it scared him, a bit." He smiles faintly, self-deprecating and a bit fond. "We tend to be a bit stupid," he agrees, finding some strange pleasure in saying so.