[Peace. He doesn't know it. He doesn't even think he wants it. The restless fire that rages inside of him can burn cold as ice, but it's never quiet or immobile.

Perpetual motion against innate stillness.]

I know better than to think you'd consider peace nothing. Enjoy the lack of price that comes with it though if you can.

[It's not even meant meanly, for all the bluntness. He knows what the quiet means to her. If she's found a pocket of it, well. He won't shatter the pretense. He leans against his deck, thumb circling the top of his cane as he studies her.]

It's never quiet to me, though.