She did not back down, even going so far as to get in his face about it once again. All the while he had watched her move, watched her as she danced while talking, and how she referred to their kind with such emphasis on the word special, as if they were less than human. Or perhaps he had read her wrong completely, and she thought she was more than human. Regardless, it was a weird inflection she had placed upon the given word, intriguing him, making him want to tease out the meaning and emphasis she placed upon that singular word. She had suddenly stopped dancing, slumping to the floor, before once more getting up and taking her phone, stuffing it into her bra, affording him a view of her cleavage as she did so. She was every bit as sarcastic as she was resilient, and it was interesting to find someone in this whole facility that was anything but those two qualities in conjunction with one another. He walked after her, stopping in the door way after she had passed through, before speaking himself.<br/><br/>"Oh, now you are giving me a pause to speak, as if you want to have a conversation" he said, now that she had stopped and gave him a chance to respond. Well, technically she didn't because she made it quite clear that she was done with him and their one sided conversation, but it mattered not because he was too proud to end it there, wanting the last words to be his own. As if that mattered in this farce of an existence.<br/><br/>"If you haven't noticed, there is no living, no letting go, at least not here" he said, making a statement that was not as crude of a play on words as her had been, but a statement that was at it's foundation the truth.<br/><br/>"If you call existing a living, then what was the point to it. If you call letting go being stuck in the same room with people that you might not always want to be with, then it's not letting go. I choose to believe that every person we come across, whether we like it or not, and every room we are put into, builds the story of our lives. So what story does our encounter tell? A story that talks about taking things with a grain of salt?"<br/><br/>He had made his mind up, he was not exactly fond of this person, and it seemed to him that she had made up her mind on the subject as well, coming to a mutual agreement to not get along with one another.<br/><br/>"If you want to hate me, that is your prerogative, and I will try and be indifferent to it, just don't be surprised if you are met with much the same attitude from me."<br/><br/>That he was annoyed at all this stemmed from her snarky sarcasm to begin with is what frustrated him most, especially because he was intrigued to see someone actually attempt to dance. Forsaking his curiosity, he turned from the girl, heading back into the dance room, confronted on three sides with his own image of rage glaring back at him from under short hair.<br/><br/>It was going to be another long and annoying day in detention, and he made a mental note to avoid her, lest she would give him her barbed sarcasm. It was already going to be a long day, and he did not want to bump into the girl again, a girl he never noticed before.