It's ironic, Rose thinks, that the sort of sentiment that would be endearing or even comforting coming from a friend, can be so infuriating coming from a near-stranger. In this case that's mostly because she did try talking with friends about it, only to be met with glazed eyes and half-hearted responses that gradually trailed off into awkward goodbyes. What is one to do when destiny forges you into a mouthpiece but nobody ever really listens?

Fabian's no different. Well-meaning, accepting, optimistic, and blessed with a mind apparently incapable of comprehending or accepting the crushing weight of duty. A familiar mix of envy and pity swirls within Rose's gut, but she has no desire to stew in it. Her curiosity is as satisfied as it's likely to be; if Fabian's Oracle friend ever experienced the Seer's struggles, she was apparently smart enough not to share that with Fabian.

"You're probably right," Rose lies graciously. "Thanks for the performance. I might see you around, Fabian."