[ the long look Flint gives Silver is very clearly and very meaningfully unimpressed. ]

Over three hundred years and counting; and yet you still have the heart of a twelve year old punk.

[ he lowers his tone, a shadow passing over his face, his eyes momentarily dead serious. ]

I'd argue that this is the very place for that debate.

[ he then glances at Silver, a corner of his lip twitching in secret amusement, the shadow all but gone. ]

I might agree with you about the timing for it, though.