Blair had to right the urge to be immediately dismissive of the idea of Aurellian theater coming close to describing anything about how she felt, or the way she lived her life. It was painted plain on her face at first; the sneer, the way her eyes rolled away as her lip curled. As Luke went on, though, her expression softened and she huffed but kept any scathing opinions out of her mouth. Instead she just put the cigarette in her mouth and shrugged, feeling like she'd been too easily read by someone like him, and thus exposed - perhaps she'd done a horrible job of hiding who (and what) she really was, and as her father's ability to protect her waned so did the willingness of others to ignore the obvious.
"Hardly matters what's easy or not," she said, soft and muffled by her smoking. "It just is how it is. Some people just born anchors, dragging things down so they won't drown alone."