There's sharpness there, out of reflex—he doesn't pretend, he won't play make-believe to set anyone at ease—but it doesn't last, without any guile or judgment he can say he was rising to meet. She's possibly as strange as he is. And even without understanding where he is at all, thinking he's still in his own world and caught in someone new's experiment, he'd believe she doesn't know what he is or why it matters.
He's quiet for a few second, slipping his tie through his fingers to smooth out the places where it's twisted on itself. When he talks again he's a little more gentle, and what isn't gentle isn't meant for her. "Do they not feed you?"
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There's sharpness there, out of reflex—he doesn't pretend, he won't play make-believe to set anyone at ease—but it doesn't last, without any guile or judgment he can say he was rising to meet. She's possibly as strange as he is. And even without understanding where he is at all, thinking he's still in his own world and caught in someone new's experiment, he'd believe she doesn't know what he is or why it matters.
He's quiet for a few second, slipping his tie through his fingers to smooth out the places where it's twisted on itself. When he talks again he's a little more gentle, and what isn't gentle isn't meant for her. "Do they not feed you?"