The line of thought is freed by her dismissal, and he steps back to turn to the flowers again. Sweeney takes a long drag and twists to flick the butt off into the distance behind them.

"Maybe. Not somethin' I can e'er speak ta with full certainty." He shrugs, studying the blossoms. "In my cabin more than I mean ta be." Not that that'll inherently bad, just unexpected. Still plenty logical that would be a place he'd return to, even without the fucking Frenchie.