She hears that cover for what it is. And it would be easy to take it, but - the fact that he offered it (and she can tell it's a conscious offer)... makes her not want to.
She doesn't know if she can trust him, exactly, but she knows he understands.
Her throat works audibly as she swallows, hands absently pulling a lock of hair from behind her shoulder for her to worry fingers through. (Isn't that an ancient as hell habit...) "It's more - there's a lot of... conflict. And I don't know if I'd want someone else from home to know, if they came here."
Not a lie at all. Misdirection, a little. But it feels... it feels good to tell the truth, even if the truth is cagey.
A long breath blows out without her even thinking about it. Tension, just melting off when she's not working her hands around a complex knot of ribbons and razor wire anymore. And with it, the weight on the back of her neck goes too, and it's easy to lift her head and make eye contact again.
"...Sometimes," she answers the second question more easily. "Mama likes me to sing older songs for her friends, but I'm... hm. I guess you could say we have different tastes." Mama prefers Pudding singing in her soft little doll persona, more parts of her act, more ways to seem darling and innocent and sweet. Pudding would much rather sing along with Soul King in her room, alone.
no subject
She doesn't know if she can trust him, exactly, but she knows he understands.
Her throat works audibly as she swallows, hands absently pulling a lock of hair from behind her shoulder for her to worry fingers through. (Isn't that an ancient as hell habit...) "It's more - there's a lot of... conflict. And I don't know if I'd want someone else from home to know, if they came here."
Not a lie at all. Misdirection, a little. But it feels... it feels good to tell the truth, even if the truth is cagey.
A long breath blows out without her even thinking about it. Tension, just melting off when she's not working her hands around a complex knot of ribbons and razor wire anymore. And with it, the weight on the back of her neck goes too, and it's easy to lift her head and make eye contact again.
"...Sometimes," she answers the second question more easily. "Mama likes me to sing older songs for her friends, but I'm... hm. I guess you could say we have different tastes." Mama prefers Pudding singing in her soft little doll persona, more parts of her act, more ways to seem darling and innocent and sweet. Pudding would much rather sing along with Soul King in her room, alone.