Aren raises their eyebrows and actually makes direct eye contact. In the right light, making the right expression, they bear a striking resemblance to any of a number of weak-chinned minor nobles that Guts has worked for, though even tired and cheese-smeared with a baby on their lap they do have a certain quiet self-assurance most of them lack. Not sneering helps.

"On the contrary, I answered the one you asked. You'll have to overlook my Sisters' fear. Men have hurt many of them and faced no consequences, or allowed them to be hurt, and said that it was right for them to suffer. And then coming here has isolated them from men, so that all men seem to be colored that same way. Also," and they cough into their fist while Vena looks on solemnly, "-you did try to kill the fiercest of us and nearly succeeded. Sister Lashan's not what she was twenty years ago, but- anyway."

Aren leans back, looks away for a moment, and repeats the one-finger gesture to give themself a moment to take another swallow of beer. "Anyway. I have... let's say I have sympathy for people who look like men and feel out of place here."