You are someone else

There was a quality of wary circling to their conversation that there had never really been in the past, a guardedness that put distance between them that he was surprised to realize hadn't been there. Once he would have been pleased that the perennially chipper, childish girl had grown to have a suitably respectful wariness, but now he was irrationally irritated by it. Maybe he'd grown used to her always showing up to annoy him and need saving. Maybe her cheery ignorance of what he really was had been pleasant after so much distrust. Maybe her looking up to him had stoked his ego. Whatever it was, he was surprisingly upset to see it go. It took him a moment to pick the thread of the conversation back up. "Yes, I also succumbed around that time. Perhaps the... being in the forest infected us both." He didn't speak of what had happened while he was sick. That particular wound was still weeping, and sharing that he had murdered his niece would also certainly not bring the Aryn of old back. He looked back at the carnival himself, taking more of the pressure off her. "There is a lot to be learned in observing crowds," he said quietly. "But being part of them is certainly... overrated."