[ Kim's not a skilled orator - Midnight has seen as much already, his own speech reserved, reluctant - but he is a particularly good listener, and it's obvious from the way he regards Midnight as they walk, his full attention on his tale. For all that he's unfamiliar with the ins and outs of Midnight's home, his society, it's not difficult to conjure up an idea as to what his home looked like. As strange and exotic as his tale may seem, some things always remain the same: there are those who are vulnerable, and those who seek to take advantage of that vulnerability.

It becomes evident, too, why Midnight had been so matter-of-fact about Kim's own plight. His own is far more dramatic, a distinct bloodline known throughout the nation, a stigma far more severe than what was laid upon Kim's shoulders, but similar nonetheless; nationless, even in their own nation. His lips thin as he registers that, though the gentleness in his eyes does not waver. ]

I'm beginning to understand what you're getting at. It was all decided for you long before you were born.

[ He has more questions -- about the nature of Sarkaz, how they could even tell, but he'd like to see Midnight's tale to fruition first. ]

I'm getting the impression that you didn't become a mercenary. Am I right?