If he were a better kind of horse, he might have noticed her distress already. Might have quit the topic they found themselves on and saved her from her misery. But he is not. Even now, when he finally notices her discomfort, he doesn’t interrupt to say any of the number of things he might to release her from having to explain. Instead, he finds himself curious how such a transformation had come about.
If he had been a worse kind of horse, he would have found it so easy to blame her. He likely wouldn’t even have been wrong to do so. But if ever there was a single virtue Cassian could be said to possess, it would be forgiveness. It is a thing he does easily and without thought, like breathing. Even in light of the pain and terror he had experienced at her teeth, he can’t seem to find it in himself to hold it against her. Not now, when her regret is so clear.
He is uncharacteristically quiet as he watches her, features nearly unreadable. The lights scattered around her disarmingly normal frame flicker and tumble in time with some impetus he can’t quite discern, distracting him even as she flinches from them.
He’s not entirely sure he has the words to adequately respond to her confessions however. He has never been a wordsmith, and now less so than usual. “That’s… reassuring.” Even to him, the words sound inadequate. With a faintly sheepish grin, he continues, “If it’s all the same to you, I’m not sure I’d want to... repeat the experience.” He pauses then, grin slipping from his mouth as his brow furrows. “But, what changed? I mean, you were,” he gestures vaguely at her, haloed head tipping, ”very different looking. And… well… which one were you?” He laughs abruptly then, shaking his head. “Not that that part matters too much I suppose.”
@[Nostromo]