Before she could even call his name, Frey knew she would recognize him for who she was. How, or why, he had yet to ascertain, but he could feel it in his gut that he was right. A rush of memories past tickled at the edge of his thoughts, vague, blurry, only barely perceptible. As she called to him, his breath hitched in his throat and he had to resist the urge to take another step back.
'Please do not run,' she had beckoned him. But the thought, the idea of doing just that appealed to him very much. With a gulp, the mage steeled himself and he stood tall. With his ruse over before it had begun, he reached up and pulled his mask from his face, attaching it instead to the belt at his waist. The blasted thing had not proven much of a disguise of late - maybe, just maybe, he mused, he'd be better off ridding himself of it after all. But there would be time to deliberate over that later. For now…
For now, he had other, much more pressing things to worry about. "My hair is not messy," he pouted, snorting in a curious mix of annoyance and amusement as he ran a hand through the hair in question. "It's just right. And thanks! Thanks a bunch! A man always loves being complimented on the bags under his eyes." Grimacing wryly, he pointedly averted his stare. He felt small all of a sudden despite her comforting tone. She was right about all of it: his hair was a damn mess, he was perpetually exhausted, and he was a bloody enigma… "An enigma to you, and to myself," he added with a rueful shake of his head as he deftly caught the apple.
As she neared, he but stood his ground - it was the most he could manage, at this point. His knees felt weak. He anxiously turned the fruit over in his hands, not really looking down at it yet. His gaze, weighted with intense apprehension and curiosity both, burned like fire. "You are Angela… Correct? Angela Rose?" Or was it Angela Rose-LeSilve? His eyes narrowed as the memory intruded, almost painfully. That name… it couldn't be right. But hadn't she and his brother… His frown deepened. "I have a brother?" he asked himself in a whisper, though he had not meant to leak that particular thought aloud, no.
He shook his head to himself and looked up at the goddess, his expression stoic, resigned, tired. "It's all so confusing. I've known you a long time… Haven't I? You see, part of me feels as though I have, looking upon you, but another part of me doesn't think so, and I fear that I do not know quite what to believe."