[It'd be enough to make him laugh, normally, that that is of course what Stede responds to first, before anything else, that teasing him worked; but Ed's just so tired, and all he can manage is a fond little grin.

A grin that dips into something sadder and confusingly fonder all at once, when Stede asks him a question. Sadder, because Ed wonders how long he's felt like this on his own. Like Ed wasn't obsessed with every word he spoke and choice he made, like it was all going to crumble when Ed, what- saw who he really was? As if he hasn't already. And that's why he can't help but keep smiling, shaking his head. Because there was no fuckery in the way Stede comforted him at his worst, or immediately saw more in him than most people bothered to, or, or, or.]

You'd have to be an award winning actor, mate. Real globe trotting cut-above-the-rest phenomenon. And frankly, no offence, you're not garbage, but you're not that good.

[Cautious and then firm, he grips Stede's hand.]

You can't figure it out, because there's nothing to figure out. It's just this. [He squeezes their hands together, insistent.] Yeah? Soon as I met you. You trying to tell me you pulled off a fuckery on Blackbeard, strangled half to death? Limping around everywhere? Nah. Not a chance. Give it up.