[She's seen that look before. On him. On Squall. On her own father's face. Seems like an unfortunate common happenstance, doesn't it? She eyes him for some moments, cycling through the variety of things she could say, some she probably shouldn't, some he should probably hear whether he wants to or not. You just don't want me to be right, she thinks momentarily before she pieces herself back together.

Rinoa settles down their cups on the table nearest them and maybe she should just hand his to him first. But she is... still herself at the end of the day and just crawls into bed with him. Doesn't even ask. Just does it because what are personal boundaries. Only when she's settled does she offer his cup over to him. Little does he know that the moment he takes it, she intends to just cosy right on up against him.

Misery loves company, or something like it.]

Sorry. [She begins thoughtfully.] You guys are the combatants. I'm not. I shouldn't be getting involved in it. Yeah, it'd be nice for you guys to be more careful, but it is what it is. [Maybe not knowing about it is just something she has to expect. To some degree, because she won't always be able to get them out of a jam, she has to trust them to handle themselves on occasion. Without her meddlesome interference.]