[ when I first saw your reply to this, I got such an adrenaline rush I promptly became exhausted afterwards and couldn't reply. xD ]

He was sure she had a lot of thoughts going around in her head — just like he was. Like chasing smoke or shadows. He was sure she was thinking a lot, the neurons firing as rapidly as his, keeping her balance on the high-wire without giving a single hint of effort away. What are you thinking? He wanted to know. He wanted to worm his way into her skull and learn her, inside out, so he could adapt. So he could feel secure. All he felt now, was like he was talking to a Pegasus who could be a soul-eating monster for all he knew. It was rare, to meet another master of the trade. Of course, a lot of the Plague unicorns rarely showed their true colors, but there was a kind of honesty to them — Psyche was volatile, Deimos always silent.. or was it just that he was so used to them, that he "knew", in a way, where he had them?

Perhaps that was the thing. He didn't know what Sumati wanted of him, what she thought, what she might do if he broached the subject of the Throat. Was he nothing but an outcast she conversed with on a lonely night, drawn by the flicker of fire and his yelp of pain, or did she want something from him? He hoped so. It would make it easier.

And, uncomfortable as it was, he realized he needed to pretend to trust her. He couldn't show her more wariness than he already did, couldn't second-guess every movement, every little bit of information she fed him. He wouldn't rely on it, because that was just stupid, but he would have to assume what she said was true — if only to remain sane, and to have a solid board to play on. But it was hard, when everything told him that she was a master at what she did.. when everything told him not to trust what his eyes saw and what his ears heard. For she could not trust what he said and did, could she?

No.

Her head lowered somewhat, a sigh slipping into the night; a trace of regret, a hint of sadness, lacing both words and eyes. He had a hard time believing this regal creature in front of him held regrets about the past, but with nothing else to prove her words untrue, he had to believe her — for now. "Indeed," he rumbled quietly in answer to her statements, though it was, perhaps, not the story he had devised for Dreven, but the less specific he was, the better, perhaps. He did not plan on keeping up this masquerade forever, and one day she would know part of the truth. A spark of excitement ignited in his blood. Who knew what the coming days and weeks would hold? Who knows anything at all? He wasn't home yet, he had a ways to go.

“Dreven, may I ask where you’ll be going tonight?” He fought the urge to give her a smile and say you may, and instead tried to decide what to say, what to do. Why was she asking? What did she want to hear? If he called a place home? If he had any plans? "Where the wind blows me," he said coyly, his blue eyes flickering meaningfully to her wings for a moment — it was half-joke, half an attempt to buy him a little time. At times like these, he really felt like strangling himself, but instead he let the brief spark of mirth fade from his eyes and sighed. "I was thinking about finding some water, actually, to clean myself up a bit," he added in a lower voice, wondering what she had in mind.