Blacktail Deer Plateau I'm not actually sure what a movie is anymore

The boy chose not to answer. The half-faced man only grew more and more impatient with the kid the longer he spent time with him. He wasn't certain if he should blame the child's parents for such a poor upbringing - or if the child was just rotten from the inside out and had no chances of becoming an adult intellectually.

Though Rose could not speak for himself as a child - in fact, he was an unruly child himself, challenging, desiring nothing more than to climb the ranks as soon as possible and be the fearsome animal just as his father was. But he was not like this. A helion with a tongue only worthy of snatching out of his mouth with a quick tug. He could only imagine that satisfying snap it would make, the beautiful silence that would follow. He could almost smile at the thought. 

The boy's toxic words were empty, they didn't sting or matter enough for him to log them away into memory. It didn't matter why the child was so venomous, Rosencrantz didn't bother to try and figure out why the boy was so sour to someone he didn't even know. Because it didn't matter. And because of that, he himself chose not to respond to such a thing. No reaction, no words. He just stared. 

Another question came his way, and this one too, Rosencrantz chose not to answer. Not because he was ashamed of the answer; but because he would not be played the fool by a bastard such as this child. What is your name. He repeated.