Trust a stranger to pick up on the things she's trying to avoid.

If looks could kill, the change in her expression would probably at least hurt like hell. At once she looks stony and scared, wary and withdrawn. None of your fucking business, her first thought, venomous and defensive. She holds onto it, though, because it's not true, is it? It sort of is his business.

That doesn't make it any better.

"I know I'm like you," she answers, going from cool to cold as she speaks. Her arms cross, body language turning defensive. "Not human. And I know it's completely fucked up."