If there was one person still alive which the black lace puppet could trust with all the shredded wires and loose ends of her often bewildered, broken mind, the Akuma knew it was Pierce... it was just hard to stomach trusting somebody. Perhaps he knew the symptom of her unsaid devotion, her secret pain that turned numb and shriveled like a curdled petal, was simply evidenced in her resistance to demonstrate, or to say it.
There was a drafty, tall pause, where teeth had trapped her tongue between their knuckles and pulverized so gently. How did he know all of this? The tea mug was abandoned onto the floor after she reclaimed her eyes from its fragrant and flowery waters.
"How do you know all of this?" she leaned up slightly to sit on her knees. She wanted to see his face up close when he answered.