( His smile grows again at that, and there's another exhale of pent-up tension, things easing out the more they speak. At the root of it, that's what this is, a conversation, which— he can do, has done, with Wynonna before. Though it's rare, again, that they're able to really talk, to share some pieces of themselves without some overarching horror at play.

What she says about being hated, about having more friends here than at home, elicits a softer knit of brows, something just as softly wounded stirring up under his sternum. He knows that feeling, even if even assigning the word "friend" to someone is very strange for him still. But... he thinks he does. But he's startled by the knowledge that she was disliked so much. How is it possible? He can see how she can be a bit... intimidating, but that seems to be a staple for many Modern People. Look at Mr. March.... (Edward, Wynonna and Holland aren't exactly the typical standard of Modern People to gauge by.) )

I can't say I had much in the way of friendships, either. ( He offers. Co-workers and maybe companions among some of them, but certainly not after he'd been promoted once, twice, three times. No, it's only after coming here that he's really been able to share time with the men from his own expedition in new ways. He and John are still a bit at odds with how to define their relationship now, but it's... he thinks they're friends. He thinks that would be nice.

Pause, as he reflects momentarily to her offer, but not for too long. He smiles again, his own eyes crinkling up a little at the corners in the face of hers, a mirror to Wynonna. )

Please do. I should like to learn the ways of the modern man.

( Is that another playful teasing sort of thing? Always rare, from him, but a little less so with her. )