He nods, looking at the knife but not taking it. "Tha-th-th- Thank you, Mollusc." Roland's jaw goes a little tight, and the line of his lips presses a little more closely together. Every now and then he does stop himself from using his world's words in time to keep that sort of thing from happening, but he's made it a habit not to bother. This gives him something almost like freedom - the knowledge that they haven't conditioned him that far, not yet - but that can sometimes make things inconvenient.

Makes things a pain in the ass, actually. Thankee-sai would've been alright, even if the boy had no way to hear the respect inherent in the phrase. What Roland got instead - well. All he can do is move on, hope it didn't make him sound nervous, because with this boy - as with certain other dangerous boys he's known, as with the boy he himself was, once - even an instant of perceived weakness could be one instant too long. He keeps his expression even. "Does that trust go far enough to earn me your weaknesses? We're in the right place now, after all, to try and train them out of you. If you've the time."

This last is delivered dryly, pointedly. If he pokes at the boy a little, lets his tone hint that Mollusc might not do all he can to survive in this place, any perceived moment of weakness on Roland's part might just pass the boy right by. One can only hope.