Point. [There's a mercenary logic to what she's saying, and Dixon gets it. He sticks his hands into his pockets and looks back out at the stars. For as much time in his life he's spent looking at them, he never really wondered about what might exist among them. Maybe he once thought there might be aliens, but he never thought of whole governments and empires and wars and anything beyond little green men.]
Littler problems don't go away just because you're at war, you know. [It's not one of those impudent attempts to save face upon being corrected; it's just a fact he believes, and a way to hold open the door to her that if she ever wants to talk about a littler problem, he'd hear it. He'd probably be a lot better at hearing it than a large problem anyway.
But he doesn't suspect it would really be about stolen spaceships, at least not out here. And he doesn't expect her to ever take him up.]
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Littler problems don't go away just because you're at war, you know. [It's not one of those impudent attempts to save face upon being corrected; it's just a fact he believes, and a way to hold open the door to her that if she ever wants to talk about a littler problem, he'd hear it. He'd probably be a lot better at hearing it than a large problem anyway.
But he doesn't suspect it would really be about stolen spaceships, at least not out here. And he doesn't expect her to ever take him up.]