[He knows she's not in the one in charge, or so much so that she's the one responsible for the decisions, but still--]

There's no point! I already know whatever they could possibly think I need ta know. I didn't survive livin' in the GAFA on dumb luck alone, and I certainly didn't survive the mercs and bounty hunters 'cause they were inept!

[Which, yes, he ended up hiring someone to take care of that for him, but it only came up after the necessity made itself painfully obvious.]

I know there's a bunch'a people that've only known a comfy life that need that knowledge but I sure as hell ain't one of 'em.

[He doesn't need classes on acting, either, because apparently he's got his "petulant child" act down in spades. He lets out a frustrated bark and sinks his head down, running his fingers through flame-licked hair to clutch at his head and giving himself a second to think about it. Does he really want this role bad enough that he's willing to argue about the bureaucracy of it all? He could strike it out on his own if he wanted to be a hero that badly, or go back to his roots.

But he wants so badly to be part of something...

He drops his hands and picks his head back up with a sigh.]

S'pose I could brush up on me close-quarters.

[As if he has the freedom to cherry-pick.]