Giving him answers inspired a crawl and sudden sinking feeling in the carrion pits of her stomach. It was when somebody expressed caring about her that she was slapped the most into silence and awe... withering into her chair like a demising flower, or the defunct love affair of a moth and a butterfly at midnight. The bruise he'd had captive a while was recoiled to its mistress of the black and bare, covered by the other, as if him not seeing it might pardon an explanation.
"I had to hit someone." the night sky said to the smile on the moon. A sigh righted and clarified her addled thoughts, which were growing more and more so dim as a veil on a witches grave. "I see things... out of the corner of my eye. They don't look human."
In a rare display of emotion, her eyes ran away and hid inside of the tea water.