Faelyn sat in silence for a long moment.
Processing that conversation.
'That was... bizarre.'
[He just went from "here's how I'll catch you if you escape" to "let me share historical cooking scrolls" in the same breath.]
'Yeah.'
[And you almost LIKED talking to him about the pie thing.]
'I did NOT.'
[You smiled. I SAW you smile.]
'That was a reflex. An involuntary muscle spasm. NOT genuine amusement.'
[Sure it was.]
'I hate him. He's terrible. The personality is still garbage even if he occasionally says something accidentally insightful about five-hundred-year-old blessed ones being lonely.'
But she couldn't quite shake the feeling that Velryn was more complicated than she'd initially thought.
Still psychotic.
Still manic.
Still a stalker who'd watched her for weeks.
But... also genuinely curious about things.
Genuinely confused by human customs.
Genuinely invested in understanding the scrolls.
