[ He watches her this time as she speaks, still polite, but there's curiosity there. He sees the flicker of warmth before it's quickly snuffed out by her own experiences, and he thinks he can see a piece of her in that. It's almost like the fairytale of the girl locked in the tower, since she had even called it that herself. But he can see reality in that faltering of her smile. Bitterness.

He wonders, briefly, if it was more than that. Or if it could be. ]

From what you've said, it seems like lies tend to come to you frequently. I take it is is because of your- [ He pauses, since the word is still odd in this context ] Your tears? People do not often lie without reason. But it seems as if those reasons comes at your personal expense.