If Ren thinks the minds of children are a cluster of rapid fire and impossible trains of thought, then this man is a greater challenge still. He could probe further, try to push through all the organized chaos, but that Ren knows will tip him off. No matter, really. For all that, he's gotten what he wants and his insight has found this man's intentions innocent. It's not very reassuring, however, not with the way his attention is focusing that goodness on him.

Ren's lips press together and he puts his hands in his pockets, one absently taking hold of his gifted sweet. His eyes flick towards the man and he stares as he talks of children. Not quite the favored subject for him, though Ren isn't sure why.

"I was an only child," he answers, "The dodging comes from fencing, not toddlers."

And though there are clear memories of the forms and motions of the art, Ren still feels like there's been more to it than that. He hears the hum in his ears of a weapon he cannot picture. Much like many other things, Ren finds it frustrating.