It's rare for Auburn to bear an expression of seriousness. Rarer still for the tone of his words to match that expression -- and near unheard of, for those words to begin taking the bone-deep chill of loathing. expression cast fixed ahead to nowhere in particular as his brows furrow, mouth drawn in a gradual bearing of sharp teeth. "I want to burn it down. All of it. The whole goddamn place. The whole fucking region. This whole hell-forsaken continent." It goes as suddenly as it comes on; Seemingly catching himself breaking the carefully constructed pattern of normalcy that's kept him together for so long. His eye meets Willows, lingers there for a beat too long to be casual; And his outburst melts to a mere simmer of tension beneath the surface, the strained tug at the corner of his lips in a sort-of-kind-of-smile.
"Y'know. Like any other normal person, am I right?"
Willow's first instinct is to check for a fever- after all, it wouldn't be the first time that overheating had caused him to act strangely. Still, something stops her. Perhaps it is the graveness of which he holds himself (even in the most strange states of mind from fever, it was never like this), or perhaps she simply wished to know what it was that he had to say... and, well.
She can't say she hasn't indulged in the thought before, but this doesn't feel like a simple venting of frustration, of lashing out in a moment of hurt.
"Perhaps I am not best to ask. You know how I fare on simply what you call a warm day, after all." She keeps worry out of her tone, instead giving a dry comment. Willow then gives a small huff of air, which may as well be a laugh when it comes to her, and moves her hand out from where she sits so that her pinky finger just barely touches against his.
"Though, perhaps if that is your wish, I should let your clothes stay on fire the next time you self combust to give you a start."