Back then, he wouldn't have been able to tell. He simply didn't have the words, the understanding, for his own actions. Since staying in Vatheon, such a thing has changed. Everything is clearer for him in regards to that life changing events... But now, he won't ever tell her. Even if she could understand herself, he's certain she would mock him anyway.

Darkleer's eyes narrow behind his glasses. This seems too easy. Maybe if he were anything but a highblood, he'd just accept it but it's starting to come back to him. If something seems too easy, that's because it is. Paranoia is always better compared to the alternative. Still, she's not... doing anything. Yet. Suspicious, he turns around and starts to walk-

He'd been expecting the sound of a knife flying through the air, not something heavier, but Darkleer still twists around and raises his arms up defensively. The chair shatters against his arms, not used to hitting something harder than concrete, and lightly too. Jerking his hands down to his side hard, he snarls. "You ungrateful wretch!" That's the last straw. Before he even really thinks about it, he darts forward, keeping low to the ground and jabbing a fist out to her side.