Iandre listened without interrupting. The menu in front of her went largely forgotten as Judah spoke, her attention remaining on him instead. It was considerably more than she had expected when she'd asked a relatively simple question, but perhaps that was precisely why she appreciated the answer. He could have offered something easier. Instead, he had given her the parts of himself he clearly wasn't particularly proud of and trusted her to decide what she thought of them.
What caught her attention most, strangely enough, was what he'd said about his ex-wife. Despite everything that had happened between them, he had built her a home, helped establish her flight school, and continued making certain she had what she needed. There was something quietly honorable about that. He hadn't allowed the end of their marriage to erase the fact that she remained important as the mother of his son.
"A great many people carry trauma or mental illness through their lives, Judah." she said gently. There was no criticism in the observation, nor an attempt to diagnose a woman she'd never met.
"Some know exactly what they're carrying. Others don't. I imagine I could have things buried somewhere in here that I haven't recognized yet." She lightly touched two fingers to her temple before lowering her hand. Given everything she'd survived, the possibility hardly seemed unreasonable.
"Whatever her reasons for refusing your help, I think the fact that you continue offering it says something good about you."
Her thoughts shifted back toward Balun.
"Don't all children have to learn some things in their own way?" she asked before giving a small, almost sheepish shrug.
"I say that as someone who has never been a mother, so perhaps I'm entirely wrong." A faint smile appeared.
"But Balun seems to have a good head on his shoulders. He may make some of the same mistakes you did. He'll probably make entirely new ones you never thought of." Her smile warmed slightly.
"That doesn't necessarily mean he'll end up in the same place."
Then came his final statement. Iandre blinked, genuinely puzzled for a moment.
"Why would I leave?"
She leaned back slightly in her chair, studying him across the table. This was perhaps the first time since she'd known Judah that they had been able to sit together without refugees needing homes and supplies, governments requiring negotiations, or some formal event dictating what they ought to discuss. For once, she wasn't speaking to Judah Dashiell the businessman, philanthropist, or logistical partner. She was beginning to meet the man underneath all of those things.
"I accepted your invitation because I wanted to be here. Learning more about you isn't going to make me change my mind simply because some of it is complicated or uncomfortable." Her smile softened.
"Thank you for sharing this with me, and for being honest. I will do the same with you."
Judah Dashiell
Iandre Athlea
also had to show, and while she did not seem the type to humor him, there was the possiblity she said yes as not to hurt his feelings. 
Tannor Grene
harped on every session. The man practically jumped overboard in shock on the yacht when he had been told.
