[soundless chuckle] Hn. That sounds more like you.

[but sorry, you're only going to get so far. He's quiet, almost long enough to give the impression he's through digging-- even adjusts the tight-pulling leather strap of his box. But then states evenly, like he's reviewing the attributes of some newfound mushi-]

So you and Knives are Plants. Different, but not so different from humans. [glance] In heart, more than anything, maybe.

And somehow he came to hate humans, enough to kill all of them; while for some reason you seem to love them... enough to die for just about any one. Human or no.

... and now this story is going to keep playing out, inside of this small bubble of life.