“Um… Sorry,” I muttered, crossing my arms again. “I talk too much, so… I try not to do that.” “What?” he asked, his voice strange and tight. I looked up at him and saw his mask wrinkled again. “Who told you that you talk too much?” “Hm? Uh, my mom.” I looked back down. “Little one.” He put his hand on my shoulder again. “If I ask a question, I want an answer. A good answer. That was a good answer.”
