Otter Creek I'll [m]ake your timber shiver

Submerged within his own mind, he'd not been aware of his surroundings, not entirely. He saw enough to know where he was going, and understood that the eventual turn was coming up, but aside from that he'd been wandering blind. He had to figure something out for himself, to understand what had happened and come to terms with it. He found the notion of doing so to be far simpler than the act itself, as he'd quickly found himself unable to fully wrap his brain around what was going on. He'd moved in a trance-like state until a voice had forced him to snap out of it, a defensive stance having been taken immediately after his body had ceased all motion. Queer eyes sought those of the other, attempting to read him in the same way that his father often did others, but failed in doing so; the skill was not something that he'd ever been able to pick up, much to his own displeasure.

In spite of his inability to read into the other boy, he'd managed to relax a bit. Previously tensed muscles eased up so that he didn't appear so stiff, while his gaze quickly connected with Adonis'. "No," Xan had responded with, honestly unable to recall a moment in which his eyes had received a compliment. "Has anyone ever told you that you're strange, possibly even stupid?" What type of greeting was that, anyways? "Who just walks up to some stranger and comments on their eyes? Are you trying to die?" The young Inuit was frustrated—in more ways than one—and so, of course, that frustration was taken out on the other male, rather than dealt with correctly.