[@timelord1101]

Of all the things Zyrid wouldn't want to hear about, it was most certainly not Alex's story, her life. He would much prefer it over a Garituan poem of hardship, notorious for its monotone approach to conveying the already boring life of a Garit. He would, without a doubt, prefer her voice depicting a picture of experience over the tic tacking of a universal message of warning that his family were to meet in the next galactic convergence.

No, Zyrid would not allow her to slip away so easily, he would not leave his seat until he at least knew her place of birth, or maybe even her childhood.

"I insist, please. I am not afraid to be trusted in, neither am I reproachful of being denied access to your memory." Zyrid spoke with Alex's mind.

It made things more intimate, in a strange, probing manner.

"Reveal what you wish. I ask only that you tell me to be gone with the idea of knowing such things if you wish not for me to know, such things..."

He often found these conversations strange, not least because he heard his voice echoe between space and its echoing disoriented him so. Alex would likely handle the experience fine, though she would likely feel a rush as her mind decoded each syllable and sentence in a fraction of a second - unnervingly fast in comparison to conversation via vibrations.