[Perhaps it should, because he is a stranger and strangers have rarely been good news for a girl like Naminé. But as difficult to read as he may be, she finds she doesn't need to try; actions speak louder than words - or (the lack of) facial expressions - and his have yet to suggest to her that he might have any nefarious ulterior motives she should be wary of. If anything, he seems... oddly trustworthy, for reasons she can't quite put her finger on. Being so quick to look after her might be one of them, but maybe it's got more to do with the way he's been doing it. Not loudly, not boastfully, just-- doing what needs to be done without calling attention to it, attentively and efficiently.]
[She can respect that. (She does respect that.)]
[So she doesn't shy away from his studying her as she studies him, because that doesn't bother her, either, eyes calm as they meet his. Hers is an honest face, subtle though her own expressions might frequently be. The real difficulty with someone like her isn't figuring out what she's feeling, it's ascertaining what she's thinking. Because she's always thinking, and more often than not it's a thought that follows some long and winding path back into the depths of her mind, much too far to see from the outside.]
[What is clear, though, is that her own physical state is not where her attention is settled. Her focus is still intent on the matter at hand, and her lips purse slightly as she takes in the information put before her. (She's starting to do better, now that they've had some rest; her breathing is recovering. Not as quickly as it should, maybe, but it's happening all the same.) Silent, she begins to sort through his words, picking out the ones that make the least sense and looking back through the reference of her secondhand memories. After a moment,]
... So you're saying... all of this is fake. That-- we're inside a computer?
[It's not the strangest thing she's ever heard. It's not even slightly unbelievable, to her; there is no incredulity, only the wish to make sure she's understood correctly.]
And that outside is another world, one I've never seen before?
[Interesting. Her eyes lower, taking in the grass, the dirt, the roots of the tree she's resting against. It looks awfully authentic - but what would someone like her know about being real?]
no subject
[Perhaps it should, because he is a stranger and strangers have rarely been good news for a girl like Naminé. But as difficult to read as he may be, she finds she doesn't need to try; actions speak louder than words - or (the lack of) facial expressions - and his have yet to suggest to her that he might have any nefarious ulterior motives she should be wary of. If anything, he seems... oddly trustworthy, for reasons she can't quite put her finger on. Being so quick to look after her might be one of them, but maybe it's got more to do with the way he's been doing it. Not loudly, not boastfully, just-- doing what needs to be done without calling attention to it, attentively and efficiently.]
[She can respect that. (She does respect that.)]
[So she doesn't shy away from his studying her as she studies him, because that doesn't bother her, either, eyes calm as they meet his. Hers is an honest face, subtle though her own expressions might frequently be. The real difficulty with someone like her isn't figuring out what she's feeling, it's ascertaining what she's thinking. Because she's always thinking, and more often than not it's a thought that follows some long and winding path back into the depths of her mind, much too far to see from the outside.]
[What is clear, though, is that her own physical state is not where her attention is settled. Her focus is still intent on the matter at hand, and her lips purse slightly as she takes in the information put before her. (She's starting to do better, now that they've had some rest; her breathing is recovering. Not as quickly as it should, maybe, but it's happening all the same.) Silent, she begins to sort through his words, picking out the ones that make the least sense and looking back through the reference of her secondhand memories. After a moment,]
... So you're saying... all of this is fake. That-- we're inside a computer?
[It's not the strangest thing she's ever heard. It's not even slightly unbelievable, to her; there is no incredulity, only the wish to make sure she's understood correctly.]
And that outside is another world, one I've never seen before?
[Interesting. Her eyes lower, taking in the grass, the dirt, the roots of the tree she's resting against. It looks awfully authentic - but what would someone like her know about being real?]
[(More than most, actually.)]
... This doesn't seem like a very nice game.