There had been that all familiar tug, the soft pull, the basic automatic urge to retort and have the last say, there was something simple and primal in that need. But defiant as he was Arden didn’t, and for his reward he could hear the displeasure hidden in the silence between words as Arinne looked at him expectantly. 

He continued to hold his silence and slug around in his nonchalant demeanour. The sooner this child had had her fill of amusement the sooner he could get on with his task. The withholding of information and needless critical questioning was becoming arduous and tiresome. 

Arden gave no reaction to the mention of blood. Hidden beneath his facade was a frustration built from unanswered curiosities. He had questions that he would leave for time to tell rather than engaging with and trying to get answers from Arinne. So he followed along and looked no where in particular but listened to everything intently.