"You are," he agrees, because the two are anything but exclusive. "Honestly, you're an idiot to do it alone, and you're probably going to be lucky if you just get hurt. But if any number of people telling you that hasn't changed your mind, what am I going to do? Lock you in a room, set your boat on fire and let us learn nothing?"

There are moments he's thought about it: cutting a few ties, slowing the progress. It's her life to waste, and while he finds himself--surprisingly enough--annoyed that she's ignored any number of warnings, that's not who he is.

This is the last he's going to say on it, he decides: making her well-being his problem isn't like him, and isn't helping anyone--even Moana.

Corralling a teenager just wastes time spent on bigger questions. "I can appreciate that you have the drive to go. And I can appreciate that everything I say to you is probably bullshit. I'm a stranger, you're a young woman with an ego. You should do this, but it's selfish and stupid to do it alone."