She smirks a little, arching an eyebrow; she can't quite read him -- the eyes don't help with this at all -- and she presumes he's joking, but there's a slightly odd edge to him that she's not sure she can put a finger on.
(Besides the eyes.)
"Maybe that's why the bull cleaned up with you," she says, picking up her drink, and gesturing with it vaguely at the metal thing. "Maybe at home you're a wrangler of...dangerous...quadripeds." She can't keep a straight face through wrangler of dangerous quadripeds, and grins; it flashes wide and white and disappears. "But it can't let you remember."
Cam presses her lips together at that, rocking onto the balls of her feet in thought. "Whoever did this to us didn't think that much through very well," she says slowly, and takes a drink. "You might not get the memory back, but you can figure out what kinds of things hurt to think about."
no subject
(Besides the eyes.)
"Maybe that's why the bull cleaned up with you," she says, picking up her drink, and gesturing with it vaguely at the metal thing. "Maybe at home you're a wrangler of...dangerous...quadripeds." She can't keep a straight face through wrangler of dangerous quadripeds, and grins; it flashes wide and white and disappears. "But it can't let you remember."
Cam presses her lips together at that, rocking onto the balls of her feet in thought. "Whoever did this to us didn't think that much through very well," she says slowly, and takes a drink. "You might not get the memory back, but you can figure out what kinds of things hurt to think about."