"So?" Valentine asked, sitting down and propping zir elbows on Mira's table. "What did you think?"
It took Mira a moment to realize what ze meant. She hadn't been drinking, but she was tired, having stayed until the end of Valentine's set. There was an odd, ethereal quality to zir show tonight that had left her feeling hazy; not magic, only Valentine. The final song of the night had been something low and haunting about a wolf raised among humans, trying to cram itself into the shape of a dog and never understanding why it didn't fit.
"The wolf should have tried harder," Mira said. Valentine's eyebrows shot up. "It hurt people, and its humans missed it when it ran away. It didn't need to bite its friend, and it didn't need to leave. There might have been other options if it cared to find them."
"It's only an animal," Valentine replied. "How is it supposed to know better? It's not as if it asked to be mistaken for a dog."
"The wolf isn't actually a wolf, though," Mira said. "It's like—like the frog and the scorpion or whatever. It's a story. The wolf is a metaphor for a person, right?"
Valentine gave a noncommital hum. "What kind of person?"
Mira considered. "Someone like a wild animal," she said eventually. "The wolf wants to be better, to be loyal and loving, but past circumstances have taught it that it can't trust people."
"So it isn't the wolf's fault?"
Mira shook her head, then regretted it when her vision swam. "It was in the village for years, right? It had time to learn. But it got scared and lashed out instead."
"It was just one mistake. Doesn't it deserve a second chance?"
"Sometimes that's all it takes. I don't think it's up to the wolf to decide it deserves that."
Valentine rested zir chin in zir hand, expression faintly amused.
"What?" Mira asked dryly. "You asked for my opinion and you got it."
"I certainly did," ze said. "You fascinate me as always. Thanks for indulging me, sunshine."