It's a good act. He's good at seeing through her acts-- more importantly, though, she still smells sad.

If he lets himself think about this, he's going to lose his goddamn mind. The way the stories go you're supposed to turn back, right? (But, at the same time, he knows-- as surely as he knows himself-- that it isn't that simple. It's like being someone that might have been. He remembers the world he might have been from; the wild forests, the song of the wind, the brackish scent of alien swamps. Similarities aside, he isn't a werewolf, so who the hell knows if there's some way to fix this?)

She makes a joke, without giving any hint that she understands him. Fair enough. With another low, untranslatable grumble, he bows his head and takes another half-step closer, bumping up against her. Gentle headbutting, always appropriate, right?