[Their metaphors are mixed up, she thinks. He must be talking about something else. He talks about a blank canvas to mean something boring and unlived, while she means it to be something that's simply unmarked. Innocent. He can't mean the way that it sounds, like doing harm is a good thing. That it can create something beautiful. That isn't the Kurloz that she knows... so she abandons the metaphor entirely.]

It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't work like that. There's good people out there in the world. And there's bad people. You don't decide to be one or the other, you just... are. Sometimes it's difficult to discern, like when we met... I wasn't sure which you were. I wasn't sure for a long time. I'm not sure that you knew, either, but the truth always comes out.

There's always a moment where you realize which it is. And it can't be anything else. You don't paint over it and make something new, not unless you've been pretending all this time, and I can't imagine...

[That all of this is fake. That he's not the troll that she's known him to be.]