[ The initial condescension had been one thing. The pointed questions are something else altogether, and they catch at a few thoughts at once — the knee-jerk agreement, no shame, that visceral desire to shirk obligation and be somewhere, anywhere simpler; the pull of duty, like a fish-hook in his ribs; the memory of a woman, short, her dark hair loose over a rich blue cloak.

The last time a woman had pressed him about questions of morality and purpose had been his last time seeing home. This isn't the same thing, by far, but there's still an echo of it, that self-righteous sense that he should know — do — better. ]

I chose to continue my life because it's my bloody life, not anyone else's. I boarded that ship because I'd rather be stranded here with you fools than stuck up there with them. It's nothing like the rest of you, all eager to risk life and limb for a world you can't even claim as your own. Heroes, truly.

[ The sarcasm's got weight to it, more bitter than flippant. Mat might be intent on ignoring the flicker of shame at his own disregard, but that doesn't make it disappear. ]