Alastor was not so foolish that he could not detect the allegory she was transplanted from their real situation into the false one. His fur bristled slightly at the thought that perhaps Caine might see through it, but when they were not plucked up like marionettes, it settled once again, and he stepped over in a hover near to where the other had sat.
His gaze flickered up to the television as it was turned on, mulling through his dialogue options before he could get together a response that did not sound immediately hostile, no matter how his true feelings were on the matter. It took him longer than was probably advisable, but Alastor had no experience in discussions of these matters. He was not programmed for it.
A small crackle of feedback sounded from his ears, almost undetectable unless one were to pay attention to it, but it was gone almost as soon as it had come.
He did not sit down on the sofa alongside Gangle, staring at the television before releasing a slow exhale.
"I'd rather not," he admitted, making an effort to look at least somewhat downcast and thoughtful, rather than the antsy anxiety that really broiled within him for having to put on this ruse at all.
"Sitting down to relax, only to get back up again is not really my idea of a proper gift given. Had you come home earlier, I would have been able to do it all at once and then sit down. And be able to stay down."
Perhaps he was hounding that particular problem a bit too severely.
"You say that 'it all went wrong'," the little deer decided to repeat, glancing at Gangle sidelong. "What do you mean by that?"
A 'wife' in this situation probably would have known... or agreed, he supposed. But to him, it made no sense to see something that was meant to be as some sort of loving union be acknowledged as wrong and yet still existing.
Wrong things should be purged, he thought. And so why had the 'husband' not already done that?
What was he hoping to salvage?
