[He can say the words easily enough, but words don't mean a hell of a lot coming from his mouth and all the promises and assurances in the world can't change that. Actions matter. So he takes off his shades. Maybe she can read a moment of honesty in his eyes; he doesn't know the extent of her powers. And even if she can't, it's the gesture that matters. For a brief moment, he's not hiding.]

No bullshit.

You're not a freak.

'Course, I'm a compulsive liar whose had, like, twenty different faces so I might not be the best judge of "normal." But I don't think you're a freak, just a person who was dealt a shit hand by fate and was strong enough to push on through anyway, and now has interesting dietary restrictions. But it could be worse. Could be vegan. How do those people ever find anything to eat?