"Hmm."

He kept the response enigmatic, leaving Jensen to interpret it however he pleased. It could have been improving, impressed, satisfied at his willingness to back down, to accept new information, and to at least act as if he was grateful for it. Going further, it could have been surprise, pleasantly so, at the maturity that Jensen sought to display. It could just as easily have been disappointment, however, at a potential debate prematurely ended; or irritation at that last little twist of a phrase, just to nudge and remind that his concession didn't compromise how self-assured the boy felt in his own intelligence. Whether it would feed into Jensen's ego, or apathy, or ire, was up to him. Lúka had learned that with students, there was only so far that you could take them, before you had to step back and let them attempt to continue the rest of the way on their own.

With any luck, Lúka had at least instilled in the boy some concept of thinking before he opened his mouth: if not, then the lessons he would receive from Lúka's peers among the Knights would not be quite so painless.

Yet, there was something, a little spark in the back of Lúka's mind, that offered the very faintest hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth, and begged him not to leave those last words unaddressed. His arms folded across his chest, the weight seeming to force out a slow sigh. He allowed his smile to flourish, just the slightest bit more.

"Perhaps there's hope for you after all, Cadet."