[She knows that sound. He doesn't agree, but he doesn't want to argue. Mirth fading, Maelle returns to the railing, right beside Gustave, arms folding in a subconscious mirror of her guardian. Old habits, picked up from him.]

I did. I do. I just... get it, I guess? He was afraid. Even with us, he didn't want to say anything about his family. If we hadn't gotten to know him and he just... said he was Renoir's son, I don't think I would have listened to anything else he had to say. I would have tried to kill him.

[An eye for an eye. And that would have ended badly.]

I don't like that he lies but I understand why he does.