[He keeps going, and by this point, she figures there's no stopping him. He rejoins her in the pile, and though it's not as close as she might like him to be, it's good enough. He offers to let her talk for a while, and she wonders if he really means that. He's obviously rattled in a way that she doesn't think is going to ease.

He promises her his quiet, but she leans a little closer, kissing him just to make sure that she really has it. It's a brief kiss, short and sweet and sorely needed, she thinks.]

...What do you want me to talk about? I'm not sure that I have anything to say... Except that I think you're being too hard on yourself. Our ancestors never did anything to earn our favor directly. We learned about them through textbooks or journals or another people. It was an idea already built up in our minds. I don't...actually know that much about mine, outside of that. I barely got to talk to her. [Not for lack of trying, of course. The memory still hurts, though, so she moves on. She tries to make it sound a little more teasing, but the humor probably falls a little flat as she asks:]

Do you want me to write some stories about you? Leave them lying in undisclosed locations for...whatever trolls you might want to impress in the future? [She's not going to name Gamzee specifically, but she'll leave it open for Kurloz to assume.]