If I was going to kill you over it, we wouldn't be having this conversation, because you would be dead. [her tone isn't bright, exactly, but it is matter-of-fact, utterly confident that she could kill him easily.] Instead, for some reason unbeknownst to even myself, I am trusting you with something that nearly no one else knows. It's a puzzle I'm still trying to figure out. What does your eye do, if it isn't a telescope?

[she goes quiet as they turn into the bar, until they're seated. it's a well-chosen spot, a corner booth where they can both see most of the room.]

Since I doubt very much you would like my entire life's story, perhaps starting with a question or two would help.