Raleigh looks like he's about to continue to protest, in no small part because being called kid reminds him painfully of Yancy and he wants to nip it in the bud... but then Alex calls him son and he's reminded, instead, of the Marshals. That's better, somehow, despite being a fresher wound. He goes quiet, all the better to listen to the old man's next point.

"You mean romantic like in an artsy way? Maybe I could see that." And no, they're not, but now Alex is starting to sound like Frank. "Don't you start, too," he mutters.

"What exactly does she do? Gipsy was mostly just systems management. Status reports and processing commands coming through the interface. No actual personality. You make the... Rocinante, was it? Sound like something in between."