The slap of the table made Thorfinn turn fast his hand instinctively reaching for the blade. But, it was Jo, his fingers just barely brushed the hand before he sat back again. His brown eyes locked on her. She, who he once thought of like his sister, the one who had his respect, and knew more of his past than any other in this world. She gets his full attention.

You don't know that

"Jo, many ages pass." He spoke back, his emotions were always a powder keg, but he had learned over his years to keep them in check. To keep from losing himself to the rage that once ruled him. "No fake hope." He spoke back just defiant. He pouted, the viking pouted like a dejected child sitting back in his chair, mirroring the pissy boy who had demanded mead from her in Medietas, demanding to be treated like a man. That child warrior was still under his skin, just as much as his scars showed for all to see.

Thorfinn unfolded his arms and looked to Jess, motioning to Jo. "This Jo, Jo help, family." As close as he had to family here. He didn't have the faith she did that his family was fine even if he had gone home the wound seemed so much more real here than it ever did in Medietas. "Jo, This Jess, Jess new here." Broken English introductions, at least he tried.