"You didn't do it on purpose," Roman assures him, waving his hand far too quickly. He's accepted the apology already, no need for the poor man to continue to beat himself up over so little.

He chokes a laugh to Lord El Melloi's undignified seating. He's acting a few decades younger, maybe he feels that way too. He wishes he's brought something more than his secret stash of energy drinks and he can't offer those.

Roman sags on the command chair, nodding as he answers: "Your brows don't wrinkle as much and there's less frowning." So maybe he's caught a few smiles too, but he doesn't want to worry him. His grouchy reputation must remain intact.