"That's all they said." Everything about her screamed that she was gentle. From her actual words, to her posture, to the tone of her voice. He wasn't always the best at reading people but the more open they were with their body language the easier it was.
And it made him want to talk to her. "But I've run into a few people and I learned more from one of them. He was pretty helpful. Not that I really gave him much of a choice."
He added, "I gotta say, the people here are really making it hard for me to kill them. So far, none of them have tried to kill me and it's getting a little frustrating."
Because he couldn't die. Even though he didn't want to kill, he knew he could because he had in the past, and he knew he would because he couldn't die. But they really ought to be making it easier for him, since he didn't want to do it.
After a second, he realized that sounded a touch homicidal and he really didn't want to give the wrong impression. Even after being adopted by the Croods, he still had his moments of not realizing how something inside his head would sound outside.
"I don't want to hurt anyone - and I haven't so far - but I was with my family," he blurted out. "I was sleeping with my family. My mate was right next to me and my daughter - she was - she was sleeping on my chest."
He patted his chest with his free hand, briefly letting it rest over his heart, and now the harshness that had been over his face like a second skin tore like the rind of an overripe fruit, showing something different underneath, something far more dangerous: a parent's fear for their child.
"If they got me, they had to have at least moved them, and I have to - I have to find them. Or at least make sure they're not here."
He had to live long enough to do that. And since he knew how to kill and was willing to, people really needed to be more obliging and start making it easier on his conscience.
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And it made him want to talk to her. "But I've run into a few people and I learned more from one of them. He was pretty helpful. Not that I really gave him much of a choice."
He added, "I gotta say, the people here are really making it hard for me to kill them. So far, none of them have tried to kill me and it's getting a little frustrating."
Because he couldn't die. Even though he didn't want to kill, he knew he could because he had in the past, and he knew he would because he couldn't die. But they really ought to be making it easier for him, since he didn't want to do it.
After a second, he realized that sounded a touch homicidal and he really didn't want to give the wrong impression. Even after being adopted by the Croods, he still had his moments of not realizing how something inside his head would sound outside.
"I don't want to hurt anyone - and I haven't so far - but I was with my family," he blurted out. "I was sleeping with my family. My mate was right next to me and my daughter - she was - she was sleeping on my chest."
He patted his chest with his free hand, briefly letting it rest over his heart, and now the harshness that had been over his face like a second skin tore like the rind of an overripe fruit, showing something different underneath, something far more dangerous: a parent's fear for their child.
"If they got me, they had to have at least moved them, and I have to - I have to find them. Or at least make sure they're not here."
He had to live long enough to do that. And since he knew how to kill and was willing to, people really needed to be more obliging and start making it easier on his conscience.