If she had learnt anything from this conversation, it was that she most certainly didn't understand him.

Again her gaze wandered away from his face, to stare at a rock behind him. Her dislike of eye contact had existed for as long as she could remember - when she was blind, she had no choice where her eyes wandered, as they simply followed her thoughts. Once she gained her sight back, however, she felt it rude to stare at someone, to drink in the contours of their face simply because she had spent the first months of her life unable to do just that. Since then her strange habit had evolved, especially when she grew more used to predators and the fact they stared before they went in for the kill. To lower her eyes was a subtle gesture of submission, to show she was not a threat - nowadays she didn't even realise she was doing it, nor that it could have the opposite effect and appear rude rather than pacifying. Only if you want to, he said. Well, he wasn't chasing her away, that was for certain. That was promising.

He spoke again, and she listened with the attentiveness of a curious child - which could be precisely what she was. What he said was interesting, and she found herself mulling it over eagerly. It sounded almost as though using racial differences as a reason to kill was just an excuse, a justification, a reason to create bonds with other like-minded inviduals. In a sick, twisted way, it made sense. His use of them did not go unnoticed, and her brow lifted a fraction before returning to its usual position. She took it to mean that he no longer considered himself among the super-racists like she had first thought - perhaps he was outgrowing the dated notion that possession of a horn meant superiority. "That, I agree with. I prefer to say 'misguided' rather than evil." It all depended on the circumstance, as with her little protecting-a-vulnerable-foal analogy earlier.

This time when her gaze lifted from the rock to meet his, she attempted to hold it. "I do appreciate you answering my questions, though. You must want to tell me to piss off and leave you alone." She released a self-mocking snort. But, after all the questions he had answered, she couldn't help but think of the one he hadn't - the question about killing a child. It hung between them, unanswered, but she simply did not dare ask it again. Once could be put down to morbid curiosity - twice was just pushy.