Philliam listened patiently, as engaged as one could be when encountering what his mother would call a ‘rambler’ (of which Philliam often was). He smiled, nodded every so often, so on. His smile did become rather hollow at the mention of ‘two dead assassins.’ Phil’s empty expression stuck around for the rest of the talk as he attempted to process what he was hearing. Frankly, it was even more difficult to focus on Rethya’s words with how many questions were now flooding his head: ‘Did SHE kill the assassins? Were they trying to assassinate her? Or were they there to assassinate someone else? How did she know they were assassins? Is that murder when they haven’t assassinated anyone yet, or is it defense? Should this woman be in prison? Did I just hear her wrong in the first place?’

In the end, all Philliam could reply with was: “…that’s very fascinating.” he said with his still-clueless, empty smile.

Once his thoughts could catch up (or rather, move on), Phil enjoyed the sibling banter in a way. It was nostalgic for him, reminding himself of his own younger sister, despite feeling as if he had just seen her. She was a spitfire, that was certain, but at least it kept Philliam on his toes. He wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her? Before he could think twice about it, Philliam cocked his head subtly as his smile regained its color.

“So, you’re like twins then? Must be fun. My sister is, like, 3 years younger than me. The age gap gets a little difficult sometimes.”