“Just…different.” Careful apprehension coats her tone. No attempts to soften it or hide a lie. “You just saw him fucking another girl and you still think he’s different?” “I knew about that.” She lifts a shoulder. “I know a lot of things about him, and his darkness. I know his preferred methods to purge and his twisted relationship with art and his family. I don’t like him because I have rosy misconceptions about him. I like him because he’s different.” Different. Again.
