"Don't think I won't hold you to that," and maybe there's a bit more amusement in it, easing back into old form.

Ah. Maker's breath, he was not prepared for the conversation to take that turn, and it makes him feel-- tired. And a little guilty for that tiredness too, because the real world keeps turning and everyone has their problems, but he's never been exceptionally good at fatherly talks and this feels like it should turn into one.

"Well," he starts, with a quiet breath, "pretty sure at least half a camp've wardens'd make their lives difficult if anyone looked at you wrong."

It's not helpful, it's not very encouraging, he suspects, and his exhale is a little defeated.