What's the point?

There was a nod at his introduction, and it would take her a few seconds before returning it with one of her own. "Mikoto." She'd found it to be a strange exchange. How willing was this one to talk to a stranger. She could have been anyone. Ah, then who was she to think such? She was here, watching one play a strange instrument, listening and interacting (abet far less than he was attempting to do so) with one as well.

"Have I spoiled it for you?”

Heels and armored layers clicked as his lithe legs traversed the space between them. The white of his garb looked stark against the surrounding night. His hair, the color akin to the starlight, fell into its usual elegance about his features as he posed himself at her side.

Although she did not turn away, her attention had shifted at that very instant she'd sensed his familiar presence. Her expression unchanging at his words as if determined to find something from absolutely nothing. "The skies are something I've never bothered to gaze upon from our home," she spoke in her usual tone. It was the only outward show she'd made to acknowledge him.

But it seemed as it her words had not ended just yet.

"There, it would have seemed as though Gaia had been the one overhead, would it not?" Pride for their homeland was not in her words, but it was proof in what she continued to wear. Her preference for the same clothing that made her appear no different than other Genomes were more than enough to signify her attachment to their lost home.

     Gentle strumming of a harp, accompanied by a light, although somewhat off-key voice.

     ”Roaming sheep in search of the place you’ve never known,

          Listen to the wind until you can hear the-”

     TWANG

When she questioned his reluctance he saw little point in denying the obvious. He readied his voice with a leisurely inhale. A slender brow arched to convey his faint sense of displeasure. Yet whatever manner of ill he felt it was not because of her. That the facade he intended to present her with.

She understood quickly enough. Learning about this emotion would take time. It was like learning a spell. One could not start with the strongest (or well, they shouldn't as she'd learned quite intimately). If she could understand these people well enough, she would be able to move higher to the next tier, invited to something far more complicated, a higher class of people. Mannerisms would be much more difficult then, and she would have to be able to discern tones far more than she could now.

"This place does not suit you," she agreed. Although there were plenty in suits and ties, and other strange things that she hadn't seen even the nobles of Treno wear, others did not seem as ... polished. 

Mikoto was somewhere in the swell. He had delivered her unto this den. Better she witness the debauchery with her own eyes. Then, despite not asking, he expected they would debase it. Their inevitable discussion critical of the occasion. Its meaning lost to them for they could not feel.

They could not ever be a part of this.

It wouldn’t just be him.

Would it?

"… … …"

Although, Kuja was right. Theory and practice were entirely different things. One day, she would have to be able to do so easily, yet her enthusiasm for learning such a complicated emotion was quite low for someone usually so interested in learning all that she can.