His aborted apology drew a small smile from Jyn in turn. The subject was one about which she knew they could talk themselves in circles and never really get anywhere. She, at least, had had a long time to be able to think about it, and then not need to do so anymore, having settled, no longer wrecked with emotion, into an opinion. The order to kill her father was wrong, and so was the Alliance bombing that finished the job instead. But Cassian hadn't followed that order — had, in fact, risked himself to save her even after she'd outlived her usefulness to the mission, yet again. The venom of the ensuing argument was far more feeling than fact, and she thought she knew the source of it for her.

Even then, she had trusted him so quickly, so easily, and then feeling as if she'd had that trust betrayed was angry at herself as much as at him. That seemed like something that would fall into the category he'd just described, things that would make them both feel unnecessarily worse again, so she didn't. More important was knowing that that broken trust had been long, long since repaired.

"More than forgiven," she echoed with a solemn nod, not wanting to seem like she was brushing him off. Then, in an easy, fluid motion, she drew her legs up, arms spread out to her sides so she could float on the water's surface. "Now, come on, is it your turn or mine?" She'd asked the last question, but she had also offered a fact unprompted, so it was hard to say for sure. It didn't actually matter, the game their own and the rules disposable, but it seemed like a good way of steering them away from the subject of that argument for now.