Dante relaxed more against her as he felt Belita lip lightly at his short, tangled mane. He did not know her that well at all, really, despite her having shared his home for some time, but slowly he would begin to feel more comfortable in her presence. He knew she meant no harm—that much was obvious—but Dante was naturally slow to warm to others, at least enough to trust anything in them.

“Good,” he said simply in acknowledgement of Belita’s reply.

They lapsed into silence for a moment then, until Belita pulled away to quiz him further. He cringed inwardly at her question, wishing he had a better answer to give her. He hated to be a bore, but the Paradise and his life had been perfectly empty as of late.

He rarely left Atlantis, and when he did he never spoke to anyone or of anything of importance. The only worthwhile conversations he had had were with wanderers passing through. His home was equally quiet, for he could not entice anyone back when he did not make the effort to socialise with the strangers he watched so voyeuristically on his occasional excursions.

“Truly, not much,” he began at last. “I have been... contemplative, and the Paradise has been quiet. Maltese seems to have disappeared with Soren, I don’t know if you ever bumped into her while she was here. Other than that, there’s not much to tell I suppose.”

He paused, and then offered her a weak, half-amused smile.

“Hopefully I won’t have to say that again anytime soon either.”

DANTE
a man possessed of some radical notions