“You’re not human.” A thinly arched line creased her brow. In regards to his state of, well being, she was most ambivalent. In regards to what he could do for her, however, she was anticipatory. She was made prescient, almost, in her wants; they drove her active mind into a state of hyperactive overdrive, trickling, tickling paths of electricity coursing through her thoughts, driving the crouching darkness before it. It was his fault, after all, always his fault; his words that drew the shreds of shadows into a whole, into a need, into a thing.
“Because it’s not human to want – to require – privacy?” Pained, but amused, his smile lasted just long enough to puntuate his words.
“It’s not about privacy.” Peevishness is a state of mind, one she was intent upon occupying for the duration of the conversation, “It’s about timing. Your lack of.”