"<b>Wine might be nice</b>," Asura answered softly, ignoring the awkwardness she exhibited to having a guest. He couldn't really judge, considering he hadn't had anyone in his place at all. He probably would have been ten times worse if he brought her there, instead of coming to her apartment. In most cases, alcohol was a bad idea, but he felt like he needed it almost as much as she did. Besides, unlike her, he had methods of sobering up almost instantaneously if it became necessary, even if unpleasant. Watching her, he could see the wheels turning in her head and the curiosity posing questions here and there. He had the impression she'd be fascinated to learn more about his non-human half. In truth, he would have liked to learn more himself. After everything he'd been through, he was told he'd only barely scratched the surface. Looking down at his hands, he began to wonder… just what was he truly capable of?<br/><br/>Was it justified to be afraid? Or was he nowhere near reaching his potential?<br/><br/>Snapping away from his own personal thoughts, he took the bottle of wine and poured it in the mug, up to the very brim. His movements were deft while he brought the mug to his lips and drank until it was completely empty, save for the faint remnants of wine that clung desperately to the bottom and sides of the mug. Anyone else would have spilled a cup that full, but it was apparent watching Asura that smoothness of motion came as easily as breathing, if not easier. It was something he failed to notice at this point in his life, having grown so used to it. Such little quirks were the very reason he often avoided public interaction, even though he was meant to be able to blend in. There were so many mannerisms that humans had that he didn't, and vice versa.<br/><br/>He nodded silently as she began to answer his question, taking her explanations and mulling over them carefully. His eyes flickered over her face while she seemed to remember bits and pieces of what happened. The depiction of those monsters… what humans saw of them… it brought a new chill down his spine. He remembered his first time seeing them. They looked so human, yet they were far from it. The more he thought about it, the more sick it made him feel. He set his mug down a little louder than he intended, nearly making himself jump. He didn't look at Charlotte's face to see if she noticed, but tried to continue listening.<br/><br/>This was when she took off her jacket. The sleeves of her shirt were pushed up to reveal the source of her ability to remember, and for that moment he was dumbfounded. He never imagined anyone would be capable of remembering after what he'd done, and this was especially so with nothing but scars. Humans got scars all the time that they couldn't remember where they came from. How was this different? He judged it might be the severity of the scars combined with the trauma associated with it, but he frowned still, his fingers moving to brush over her mangled arms, but stopping just short. No, touch was not a good idea. Not now.<br/><br/>Obediently he sat down on one end of the couch, but not before grabbing his mug and filling it halfway with more wine. He made note that he owed her; it was obvious he'd be seeing her again, after all. Finally, the time had come to address those questions. Taking a slow breath, he sipped from his mug and glanced up at the ceiling, noting the texture. Often, he made it a habit to take in random facts of his surroundings. It had never been useful before, but it was something he was taught to do from a young age. Why?<br/><br/>"<b>Understand that while you've been trying to find out who I am and what went on, I've been trying to figure them out myself. They work for someone, part of a very large and powerful group. I've heard it referred to as an organization before. It's not entirely clear what they're after specifically, but from my understanding, the whole ordeal has to do with a power struggle between two groups</b>." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and staring down into his mug. It was obvious he found it difficult to look at her when he spoke. "<b>Supposedly…</b>" There was clear hesitation in his voice, "<b>Supposedly, they're the same thing as whatever my mother was. She always called them monsters, and implied they were something else, but I'm quite certain they're the same thing, but different. I don't know if that makes sense</b>."<br/><br/>He was still debating if this was the truth, but then over the past few months, he'd become rather certain. The pieces of the puzzle were being given to him one by one, and he was struggling to put the incomplete puzzle together. "<b>The company you work for, one of its major clients is Salvara Corporation. And Salvara Corp? It's fake. Whatever they claim to be doing, they're not doing at all. I think someone in your office may have caught on to something, or maybe someone was poking around where they shouldn't have. The 'demons' that attacked were ordered to find the rat and dispose of all evidence. And, since they have pull with enough people higher up, the whole ordeal was covered up. Unfortunately, I was forced to help that along. You see, if people find out about them, they find out about a whole lot more. It's not something your society is capable of handling at this point in time</b>."<br/><br/>He downed the rest of his wine and set the mug aside before looking at her directly. "<b>Does that satisfy you</b>?"<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="91" data-username="@Wren" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/91/">@Wren</a>