Ragnar had considered that maybe Pump and him, on the grander scale of things, were not truly so different from one another and that, that had been the main reason as to why she let him get away with as much as he did. He had been expected to have been given the proverbial boot long ago because while he definitely respected her and her authority, he also would do what he thought was “right” even if it meant disobeying. Ragnar was willing and unafraid to do what others would not; he did not harbor the same “moral compass” if even had one at all that others seemed to hold in such high regards. Ragnar nodded once in understanding of her unwillingness to share what was hers because he didn’t, really, want what was hers. He wanted his own; and would seek it out, eventually, when his sons were older. He was not, despite what his actions may have been led others to believe, in haste to part ways with the Ridge any time soon. And when that time did come - quite a ways down the road - Ragnar did not wish for it to be on ill terms with Pump. He would not ask her for an alliance if he could scavenge his spread out loyalists into forming into a Viking society because it seemed that neither of them believed in such a thing, but he did not want them to part as bitter enemies, either.
He had enough enemies (most of which seemed to have this knack for being of his own blood).
He considered her words thoughtfully, his scarred face contemplative, the echo of a smirk yearning at the edges of his lips as he considered the irony of this. It was similar to the offer he had made her many months ago, that he had pushed her for and here she was, more or less, returning it to him.