York's not even sure she'd consider herself more moral. She's done an awful lot of questionable things, but -- dammit, Marco's just a kid. To her, that's a whole other ballgame. And what's worse is she knows he's right. She can't even really be mad at him, either, because Arthur was just doing what she's trying to do now -- acknowledging whatever Marco had decided to do, however fucking dumb, and just trying to help him stay alive doing it. She can't be mad at him for knowing Marco well enough to know that he couldn't be talked out of it.

She lets out an explosive sigh, raking both hands through her hair, and she directs her frustrated glare at the wall opposite her instead of Arthur. Pacing a couple of steps, she lets out another noise of dissatisfaction, but it's not really directed at Arthur.

"Sorry," she mutters, letting her shoulders drop. "Yeah, you're right. Can't talk that kid out of anything, not once he's decided to do it." She casts a look outside the back room, through the space where the door was left ajar, and then she looks back at Arthur, pursing her lips apologetically. "I just -- I dunno, I feel about all this, y'know? Can't help but feel like Marco wouldn't exactly want us steering his kid self into the mercs. But I guess all we can do is look out for him, teach him what he needs to know."

It almost bothers York a little, that it's such a big deal to her. She's almost a little embarrassed by it, insofar as she gets embarrassed by anything. She's always had a soft spot for kids, sure, but the thought that something might actually happen to Marco -- shit, she'd gotten along with him back on Sacrosanct, but the truth was she hadn't known him for terribly long.