She looked up at the voice. British, which was sort of comforting in a way she'd never expected it to be. She didn't have any pride in her country, because why would she? All racism and binge drinking and corruption. "Yeah, not you," she assured him, though she didn't get the impression he actually thought she had been talking to him.
She sat up a little as he turned to face her, tempted to offer him a hand, but she reminded herself he was probably used to being blind, and any offers would just be patronising. The question stunned her though. Your pack. She knew what he meant, because what else could he possibly mean? "I'm not-I'm not. There was no pack and I'm not...one of them." She couldn't say the word just in case. People didn't need to know about werewolves if they weren't already aware of them, not on top of everything else. She closed her eyes, even though he was blind she was sure he'd know if she started crying. Apparently he could already sense her misery, and the wolf thing, even though that wasn't even her. "My..." she searched for the right word, just like always did. "My other half." She wasn't even making sense, just forming half made sentences because she had no idea how to properly explain until she knew exactly what was going on and what the deal with the man in front of her was.