Fenris’ gaze flicked up when Rosalind addressed him, eyes narrowed. But there was no judgment in her tone, nothing in her expression that suggested she was fishing for a certain response. He relaxed, if only a little bit. "Not often. I—" don’t see the point would be mildly offensive, so he went for the next reason. "—don’t enjoy it." Still honest. News was either inane or depressing, and neither really appealed to him. It didn’t help that his sister’s career had grown exponentially since he left New York not too long ago. Fenris took very little comfort in seeing Varania’s face staring back at him from the magazine racks.
The notepad held his interest once more, and he tried to read what Rosalind had written upside down. No such luck. "What interests you about the veterans?" Fenris could guess any number of things, but he wanted to hear it from her first. The response would tell him a great deal about her intentions, but more than that, her priorities. Rosalind seemed nice enough, but nice wasn’t always indicative of good.