He had a feeling. He couldn't say with any degree of certainty, not within their limited interactions, especially not with the tight lid she had on her emotions, but he'd had a feeling. Losing someone you care about, no matter how much self-control you have, isn't something you can just shrug off. You can bottle those emotions up, push them out of your mind, or find some outlet, but they didn't just go away.

There's a clear urge to comment on that reply. He draws in a breath to start speaking but decides against it. Sure, he has questions, but he'd rather not go down this rabbit hole. They're supposed to be having fun.

So, instead, his attention turned to his newly painted claws. He lifted his hand, turned it over to examine it in the light, wiggled his fingers experimentally.

"Not bad," He says. "I still think you wore it better, but ..." He nods his approval, not really sure of what else to say.