[So she'd called his bluff. Not that he'd necessarily expected she wouldn't, since she'd seemed pretty intelligent from their previous conversations, but it was still interesting. He stopped shelving the books to lean against his desk as he answered, his tone a little more serious.]

My parents... My parents were murdered. I was there when it happened. [He shrugged again, still maintaining the casual but serious attitude he'd become accustomed to slipping into when he talked about this.] Kinda does stuff to you, you know?

[He elaborated quickly, but in a way that wasn't rushed or forced or trying to brush off what he'd said.] I mean, I don't dream about it as much now as I used to, but one or two slips in every once and a while.