Widow just looked at her warily. Yes he was but of course she was not AS scary as that group of men who came to hang out with his father on friday and saturday nights. He nodded his head. "I am physically frail but that does not mean I do not know how to run. I push myself to because to do otherwise means I shall face extreme pain. I think causing myself to cry tears of blood from stressing my body to the extreme is a small price to pay not to be black and blue all over." He said in a soft voice. He watched as the woman put her hair up. THe shadows still masked quite a bit of her. He looked down for a moment. Then back up. His father loved that he cried tears of blood. He claimed that all he had to do was stress his heart and he could have the blood he needed. He shivered at the thought of things his father had done. The man was extremely deranged.<br/><br/>He blushed faintly as the soft hand touched his cheek. For a moment his eyes glazed over. Images shot through his mind. Somewhat jumbled and confusing. Then a lurch forward and he saw himself and this woman. Standing acros from them was one of the men whom he knew was an friend slash major enemy of his father's. Needless to say whenever that man in the vision showed up things blew up...mysteriously. When she pulled her hand away his body seemd to lurch as if electricity went through him and his eyes focused back in. Blinking before listening to her speaking. His cheeks flush got darker as she said that. "Sorry..." He said in a shy stammer. "I didn't mean to." His cheeks reeally warm. Then returned to normal. He looked at his clothes and heard the whisper. "You have no idea...just how twisted." He said softly. She didn't know just how deranged and twisted his father was.<br/><br/>"He says I look a lot like mother...that if I dress differently he will make me regret it. I tried to one time when I was littler. I woke up with snakes in my bed and spiders on my ceiling." He shuddered at the memory. Snakes and spiders was a well known trademark of many warlock clans. He watched the ghost come out. The masquerade covered face of the little girl in the strange looking dress floated over and around them. Landing near them but not near enough to touch. She started speaking but it was doubtful the woman could hear them like he could.<span style="font-style: italic">Who are you lady? Why you always in here? Are you going to hurt us more than we already hurt lady?</span>Widow looked to the woman. Just in case she couldn't hear what the ghost girl said. "She wants to know who you are. Why you are always in here. She wants to know if you will hurt them more than they already hurt." He looked down. "What is your name anyways?" He asked softly.<br/><br/>He felt safer with this woman than he did around his father and his friends. Or those people out there who hated him for his gifts. He turned beet red as she mentioned WHERE he had touched. "A-ah! I AM SO SORRY!" He cried out shyly. Blinking a bit and tilted his head. "You...are...welcome?" He said in a confused way. "Then it is good I accidently touched you?" He said. Trying to understand what had just been stated. Blinking a bit. "Well at least they don't do the burning at the stake anymore. Least not that I am aware of. Hardly anyone believes in magic as far as I know." He listened to her speak. The way she spoke of history made him laugh a tiny bit. "The way you describe the Salem Witch Trials almost makes it sound amusing instead of sad." He said softly.<br/><br/>A smile on his face now and he had a beautiful smile. He looked at her. "It is alright. I do not mind." He said honestly. "We can be friends okay?" He sighed and looked down. Resting his chin on his knees. "Yes. My father but he is usually too busy locked away in the place he calls his lair or hanging with his creepy black robed friends...to actually spend time with me. I really don't like going back there." He looked up. "You can come stay with us if you'd like. Strangely my father is always telling me I need to branch out and make some friends." He offered. Lowering his gaze again. "My gifts are weird and some of them are considered psionic and not magical. I have to hide that I have them from my father. I am afraid he would try to abuse them as he does me when he sees fit to do so."<br/><br/>He lifted his gaze. "Most people can't do things like I do. So it is hard to make friends. Even harder to make friends who my father doesn't terrify." He moved to sitting at a different position. Looking at her. "I like healing people...because then I feel I have a purpose. Yet I can't do it too much or it will draw bad attention my way. I remember the woman whose face I can't remember saying that. She was my mother but I do not remember her face. Just her voice and the sweet way she talked." He smiled at the memory. "What about you? Do you live with anyone? Sorry I am jumping all over the place." He looked at her. "I think though that being burned at the stake that may times would actually hurt a lot more than all the beatings I get when the older boys get ahold of me." He shuddered as he thought about it. "I have one power that I know I can't tell my father about or he will misuse it or try to anyways. It isn't commanded activated."