[He is grateful for her attempt to cover up what is an epic case of quadrant flipping, at least in his mind. Eridan nods firmly at her first statement.]

Fine, then I don't wwant to hear any more a' this angst-ridden hoofbeast shit, got it?

[At her second question, he abruptly breaks eye contact, fiddling with his scarf with suddenly nervous hands. When he speaks, it's all a rush of mumbling that's practically unintelligible.]

Imighthavvedoomethefutureaourentirefuckinrace. It's not a big fuckin' deal.