She spoke of remembrance, and yet she showed little emotion. Was she hiding what she thought and felt at that moment, or did those memories truly rouse little emotion within her breast? The latter was painful to consider, especially since the memories of their time together was still fresh and vivid. To think that her memories of what had occurred between them had faded to little more than a corroded photograph was–was something he didn’t want. But her sigh and the hand raised to touch her temples belied something at least, even if that something was simple weariness. Weariness was better than nothing at all, he thought.
“I have at least advanced to living somewhat less like a mole nowadays. Though my patterns are still quite nocturnal, so I suppose an owl would be a more apt comparison now.” It was a weak attempt at a joke, he knew, but he was not certain what else to say now that she had responded in a guarded manner to him.