Some Don't Stay Dead [Dionisia Wood]

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The day's scavenged paper had brought with it an unusual surprise in the shape of a familiar face and a very old one at that. It had been a long time since Brynmor had assumed he'd lost track of Dionisia Wood but perhaps it's inevitable that they would bump into each other again one day. Any thing's possible when you have that much time to play with. He definitely hadn't been expecting her to be in Gotham though, he was almost convinced he'd made a mistake but even hundreds of years apart seeking power seemed like the Dionisia he had observed before.

He had to check. Fortunately the newspaper article was good enough to provide the location of her next public appearance and lurking behind the crowd Brynmor was soon sure it really was her under yet another name.

So began several days of stalking. While it might be easy for the average person to look her up in the phone book or find her address and scope out the layout of her entire neighbourhood online, Brynmor has yet to really adapt to more modern ways of tracking people and so he sticks to simple following. Cars present a problem, taking a more direct route over the rooftops helps but several times he lost her and had to patiently wait until there was sign of her passing by again. Patience was easy for him, remaining focused was more difficult but luckily he found the mansion she called home before something happened to distract him.

He still couldn't really work out if she was up to anything he would have to put a stop to as he spent the night lurking down the road in someone's garden, waiting for morning.

The way he figured it morning would be the best time for it. While it was light she seemed to be relatively human and he'd have the advantage of healing until night when he wouldn't be able to do a thing against her. With a bit of luck if he did have to stop something then killing her for a day would be inconvenient enough to mess things up, and he'd happily kill her. It wouldn't be the first time and she'd be back so he didn't really consider it to count. To that end he'd brought a gun, tucked under his coat in the back of his belt. He hadn't used it since the second world war but he was fairly certain it'd still fire and for some people you just have to make an exception when it came to how willing you were to hurt them. She really had made a very bad first impression on him, he was very on edge about the whole thing.

Scaling the fence onto her land he was extra careful to look out for security but saw nothing, which somehow didn't ease the feeling that he might be walking into a trap. He doesn't see how she could know he was coming but there was a bit of paranoia still and cameras of not he still takes his time to cross the gardens, going straight for the patio doors, half hoping they hadn't bothered to lock them but it didn't slow him down for long as he puts an elbow through one of the panes and flipped the catch on the inside.

Now he just had to find Dionisia before she found him and automatically he follows the smell of breakfast, it was a good place to start.

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Aria's morning routine is... unusual. Most people crawl out of bed, eat breakfast, bathe, and get dressed. She, on the other hand, has not been asleep. Some nights she stays home, actually, but others she could have been nearly anywhere where the sun isn't above the horizon. So the first part of her morning routine is to make sure that she's at home when the sun rises there - otherwise her methods of returning become limited to the strictly normal varieties and that can prove to be anywhere from minorly to extremely problematic depending on just how far away she is at the time.

And when the sun rises, there's that moment of transition from being a ghost to being human. It's always the more striking of her two daily shifts to her - switching to a ghost feels both freeing and numbing at the same time. Suddenly she's able to wield so much power, and yet the mortal world grows dull and suddenly feels less real to her. On the other hand, when she becomes human it feels as if she's suddenly been burdened by a great weight, shackled by her limitations, and yet also a feeling of being very alive once again.

Once she's restored to her human state, it's her habit to make altering her appearance be her first order of business. As a ghost it's not a problem at all that her appearance always remains unchanged, but as a human she's not only expected to age but also to make other periodic changes to her appearance - a new haircut, for example. And since everyday the restorative part of her transformations insists on restoring her hair to the same length, she has the unusual habit of giving herself a haircut every morning. Which for most would be an exceedingly difficult task, especially since it's important for her to make it look like the haircut wasn't recent most of the time, but she's done it so often by this point that to her it's just another step in the grooming process. Her makeup is also very important, as by this point she's having to use every trick she knows to make herself look older that can withstand close inspection. Clothing doesn't require as much care, as she only needs to think about it occasionally and can simply grab whatever's in her closest the rest of the time.

Once she's finished with all of that, then she's ready for breakfast. Which usually comes in the form of fresh fruit of whatever type happens to be most in season. Though she doesn't technically need to eat because it would be impossible for her to starve between transformations, she does get hungry and tired if she doesn't eat and therefore she prefers to do it. And fruit is flavorful, boosts her energy, and as the seasons change so does her breakfast, which makes the task of eating it far less tedious than it could be. Especially since she's not the one preparing it - Anastasia, always sure to arrive to work shortly after sunrise, prepares her mistress's breakfast first thing in the morning. Aria is usually ready for breakfast around the time she's finished preparing a variety of fruits.

Which is why, when the shattering of glass announces the arrival of some trespasser on the patio, Anastasia is in the kitchen cutting up a pineapple. Of course, the pineapple is instantly forgotten at the sound, especially since the part of the mansion he's broken into is the room that combines the kitchen, dining, and great rooms into one large, open space. Giving a quiet cry of fright, the woman stares at him wide-eyed for a moment. At first she assumes that he's some crazed homeless man, which is why she quickly retreats to the back part of the kitchen where the doors leading further into the house could provide a quick escape route if he goes after her. But in truth she's probably just as much frightened by her employer's likely reaction...

Still upstairs and finalizing the details of her appearance, Aria hardly suspects what's going on downstairs. But the sound of shattering glass is enough to carry, which causes her to stop what she's doing and frown. It's hard to judge from this distance, but that sounded like it may be louder than could be accounted for by a dropped dish. Though even though she's as of yet uncertain what what has happened, she quickly conceals a gun and a pair of daggers on her person before she hurries downstairs to see what's happened. The possibility of an intruder occurs to her - this is Gotham, after all - but even if Anastasia simply broke something that doesn't mean that she won't want her weapons. It really all depends what was broken and how angry she decides she is - her housekeeper knows better than to be clumsy with her things.

Not half a minute passes after the sound of the glass before she's arrives through an archway in the great room, and the moment she sees that there's someone who is definitely not Anastasia in her home she draws her gun and aims it at his head even before bothering to see who it is. While she may have other employees who enter her home on a regular basis, all of them have rather strict instructions not to bother her in the early morning. A shift of her eyes confirms that the patio door has been broken into, only furthering the evidence that she's right to be hostile. "Don't move!" she orders commandingly, angrily. The only reason why she doesn't shoot immediately is because it's best to verify that this is a random nobody and not someone connected to anyone she ought to be furious with. She's learned the lesson that the dead can't talk a number of times in the past, and while it may have taken awhile it's well sunken in by now.

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Brynmor is really more of a fan of bacon and pretty much most things which are said to be bad for a person, he doesn't exactly have to care about his health after all. Living without money and often without a roof over his head doesn't exactly provide much in the way of breakfast no matter what it is though so he's hardly picky. Nor is he well versed in morning beauty regimes, he's been wearing mismatched clothes and looking tatty for ages now and the homeless have yet to complain.

He really is rather bad at checking his surroundings before he does something though. It matters to him so infrequently that even a quick glance around is sometimes over looked. Such things might have helped here, for the first indication he knows someone's there is when Anastasia's cry makes him look over in surprise. He really should try to remember that he shouldn't be surprised when there are people in the house he's breaking in to. Not thinking of Dionisia's inevitable employees was another over sight on his part.

With a muttered swear in a completely alien language Brynmor starts towards Anastasia, intent on making her be quiet in the hopes that Dionisia or anyone else that could be around might not have heard yet. It could also be said that he doesn't have much love for the people who've worked for Dionisia in the past either, he's far less understanding of the frightened woman as a result.

It seems today is not his lucky day anyway. As Dionisia enters the room he pauses and looks back at her. His stance actually relaxes a little, there's something about the comfort of familiar circumstances and he's quite used to getting guns pointed at him "You know that's not going to do any good" So much for the element of surprise. At least he can say he broke into the right house, that has to count for something.

He would though rather not get shot and expects her reaction will still be pretty bad. Dying might not be permanent but it was still painful and it would mean he'd be inconveniently immobile until he'd healed up. He tried not to look too irritated with her as he searched his memory for small talk that might ease the tension "It's been a while...You're still living" Somehow the tone comes out sounding a little accusing but then he really wishes for once it'd be someone he at least liked who'd live forever.

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Just how healthy her breakfast is isn't a huge concern for Aria either. Whatever effect anything she eats during the day is effectively erased every evening, so she could pile her plate high with most anything without worry. Short of eating toxins or drugs, about the worst consequence she could have from a meal is food poisoning. No, she chooses fruit not for health reasons but because she actually enjoys it. Unlike Brynmor, most of her life she has managed to get herself some breakfast. And during most of those centuries if she wanted meat, eggs, or anything made out of a grain she could probably get it. But until the invention of modern transportation and things like refrigerated shipping containers, fresh fruit wasn't easy to get for most of the year, and many tropical fruits would absolutely unobtainable if you didn't happen to live near where they grow. So as far as Aria's concerned, her healthy breakfast is actually a special treat of flavors she's not had centuries to get bored with.

Of course, the last thing on Anastasia's mind as the intruder approaches her is finishing preparing Aria's breakfast. Especially since this gives the woman an opportunity to take a more careful look at exactly who he is. The woman's eyes go wide with terror as she whimpers, "Santa María, Madre de Dios..." Whatever this person is, he doesn't pass for human upon closer inspection, and naturally she assumes the worst and finds herself paralyzed by fear of him. But it's probably hardly a surprise to Brynmor anymore when yet another person mistakes him for a demon of some sort. At least this one doesn't look remotely prepared to try to do anything to him.

Quite unlike Aria, who would quite happily do any number of things to him. Yet, once she recognizes who her gun is pointed at, she scowls and lowers it. Like he said, she knows that it won't do any good. Well, unless he does anything that fills her with an overwhelming desire to simply hurt him, in which case using the gun might prove to be handy anyway. He does seem to experience pain, after all, and she's all too happy to inflict it upon those she's not happy with.

For now, though, she decides to play nice. At least as nice as she's actually capable of being to someone she greatly dislikes but can't kill. "And, unfortunately, so are you," she replies, not afraid to express her dislike to his face. Pretending that she's at all pleased to see him would be pointless at this point anyway. "What are you doing here? I can't imagine you want to reminisce about old times," she asks, folding her arms and eying him suspiciously. If he does anything to ruin her life this time, so help her...

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Irritation stems at Anastasia's words but Brynmor directs the deep frown at Aria, he doesn't expect her to care, maybe understand a little better how tiring that can get after a few centuries but mostly he's just blaming her for her staff or anything that goes on in her house.

Of course he understands the words, he's heard a lot of variations in many languages but even the tone of them tends to stick in his memory as they often come with screaming or people attacking, that Anastasia is doing neither is at least some improvement. Seeing Dionisia seems to have encouraged him to be a little meaner though, he wasn't quite so peaceful the last time they met and now he chooses to take off glasses, giving Anastasia a firm look. He felt angry and didn't see any reason why he should have to disguise himself against someone who had already decided what he is, he chooses only to confirm her fears and scare her further.

The look is all she gets though and after a moment he glances back to Aria "A man can't stop by to see an old friend without a reason?" Friend is pushing it really far. That she sparked any sort of feelings at all made her different from the vast majority of the population but the feelings were definitely more negative than positive.

He makes himself at home, the gun and her obvious displeasure ignored as he moves and takes up one of her chairs while he talks "I saw you in the paper, it's been a long time since we were in the same area..." It's a lot harder to tell how often Brynmor's been close by, he makes a lot less impact on the population but it's still a big world, two people can easily miss each other for a long time "I just thought I'd see what you're up to. I doubt either of us really care to reminisce on our history" It's not the first time he's snooped into her business and their previous meetings didn't exactly go well, what with them both having to disappear from the area and several people in Brynmor's way ending up dead. Yet he still can't imagine that she's changed that much.

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The last thing that Aria cares about is how Brynmor feels about how her staff treats him. If he wants to be around people treat him the way he wishes to be treated then he should go find such people, be around them, and leave her alone. It does bother her slightly that he feels the need to further terrorize Anastasia, though. Not that she's not done similar or worse to the woman herself, but the woman is her housekeeper to treat however she wishes and not his. "Go find something to clean until I want you," she orders the woman, which seems to jolt her out of her terror just enough for her to immediately run out of one of the back doors of the kitchen.

The haste with which Anastasia makes her exit causes Aria to roll her eyes, but it does her no good to keep the woman in the room if she's just going to stand there and cower instead of doing her job. And it frees her to concentrate more fully upon her uninvited and unwelcome guest. "Since you're not my friend, no," is her blunt reply, as she dislikes him enough to not let that statement go uncorrected. Unlike him, she's able to easily make all the friends she could care to have among the general population, as fleeting as they may be thanks to their short lifespan and her need to be constantly reinventing herself. So while there is a certain difference to how she relates to him, knowing that he won't be dead in a hundred years, she doesn't see any reason why she shouldn't really hate him based on that fact alone.

As he takes a seat, she sighs quietly to herself. Obviously, he wouldn't have bothered to come here if an unpleasant reception was going to be enough to cause him to leave. And as the persistence of the unkillable is perhaps one of the universe's greater forces (something she knows well, considering the number of times she's had to play things that way herself), she knows that the most effective way to get rid of him is to either give him whatever he came here for or prove that he won't get it as quickly as possible. And if what he wants will take long enough that he's taking a seat, then she plans on making herself comfortable as well.

Heading toward the kitchen area, she keeps a tactful distance from him as she goes there - she's seen him fight, after all, and wouldn't want to invite him to take any potshots at her. Then again, he's seen her fight before so he probably feels the same way - she can be rather... vicious. Especially since if she did try to do anything to him, her goal with be to inflict misery instead of death since the latter is impossible in his case. Once she's in the kitchen, she picks up the knife that Anastasia abandoned and resumes the task of cutting up the pineapple where the other woman left off. She's not going to let Brynmor's visit ruin her breakfast, even if it requires her to do such a menial task herself.

"Why is what I'm 'up to' any concern of yours?" she asks, though her tone is somewhat more curious than suspicious. While their previous encounters taught them both enough about each other to reveal their essential natures, that doesn't necessarily mean that they know each other very well. Having her life ruined makes her very disinclined to stay around and talk, after all, so she never bothered to learn why he felt the need to inflict himself upon her. This time is different, if only because he's yet to do anything to really set her off. The times may have changed, and her methods along with them, but who she is as a person has hardly changed at all.

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Brynmor can't help it, he's a lonely old guy and people have died on him far too often. That the people who seem to live forever aren't people he likes is no reason not to try and get on with them. At least that's what he tries to tell himself, it's a lot harder to put into practice, they make it so hard to like them. He can only hold onto the hope that after a few more centuries they might get fed up and change their ways, he has all the time in the world to wait. Either that or they'll go crazy and try to kill everyone, Brynmor could understand that urge, it was another reason why he tried to nose into their business.

He's pleased to see Anastasia leave, he could do without the scared staring at him constantly, though now there was the concern that she might end up calling someone he really didn't want to meet, like the police. He tries to keep an ear trained on her, listening out in case she starts talking to someone but soon loses her as she gets further away.

Dionisia's blunt dismissal of friendship is predictably met with very little response. As far as he's concerned it goes without saying that friend isn't the right word, they hadn't tried to attack each other yet to that was something, or perhaps she was just seeing it as pointless as he did.

The removal of the gun was at least a small step up, not that Brynmor had been overly concerned about it in the first place. Nor is he particularly worried about the methods she'd probably use to hurt him if they did get a fight, really he just tries not to think about it and he's got amazingly good at ignoring things like that through plenty of practice. He watches her closely as she sorts out her breakfast, just because he isn't worried doesn't mean he trusts her with that knife or at all "What are you up to? Politics? Working your way towards the top again? You know it's never going to last" He doesn't really get why she's still bothering to try but he frequently wonders the same thing about some of the things he does.

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Dionisia isn't about to go crazy and try to kill everyone. Or at least, if she did it would not be any time soon - she basically keeps her sanity by getting very absorbed with the world, to the point that it distracts her from the loneliness she might feel if she let herself dwell too much on the larger picture. Yes her friendships are temporary, but there are always new ones to take their place. And she also enjoys how they keep inventing new ways to make her life easier and more comfortable, especially over the past couple of centuries. Any stray desires of ridding the world of the other people in it are therefore easily countered by knowing that it's because of the other people on this planet that she can have so many nice things, and what would she do with herself if she didn't have anyone to tell what to do?

Actually, she's usually quite careful about who and whether or not she kills someone she knows for that reason - for most people, death is something that you can't take back. Though naturally, Brynmor is an exception to that one, so she's much more likely to try hurting him without thinking about it. Though he doesn't have much to fear from the knife - she's not familiar with using that kind of a blade as a weapon. The pair of concealed daggers, on the other hand, are a different story. But for now she's being patient and takes her annoyance out on the pineapple.

"Of course I know," Aria replies with an irritated roll of her eyes that this needs to be explained, "But being on top makes me happy. And if I could get there and then just stay there forever... well that would be boring." She's not about to go into any detail of the specifics of what she's up to, especially if not directly asked. Even if he doesn't care about her answer, the best way to keep a secret is to never divulge it.

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Brynmor lacks the means to destroy everyone, which is just as well or he almost certainly would have tried by now. He's had a long time to stop being bothered by people and calm down so he no longer cares to, though it would probably at times still be very tempting, but he has been crazy and angry at everything many times. Apathy has mellowed him out and it shows to someone who's known him in the past, he has less life to him than he used to as he lounges in her chair with a look of indifference when she talks about it making her happy. He really doesn't see the appeal "Repeating the same goal over and over seems boring. With all your wealth and status you choose to do this...again"

There's a small part of Brynmor that's a little jealous. She seems to have it so easy; the food, the expensive house, the freedom to easily go anywhere and do so many things and this is what she did with it! It was such a waste when he could imagine all the places he'd go or the new things he could do with it.

Not that Brynmor is entirely unhappy in his life, he has no danger from living on the streets and the people there were often strange, besides which he doesn't really trust humanity as a whole enough to try and live in the same society as them even if he suddenly could but he could enjoy a change, any change was good in his book.

Thoughts on his exile from any kind of comfortable living brings another thought from the newspaper to mind though and suddenly there is a little spark of life as he snaps a glare onto Dionisia "You're messing with the laws on aliens" That he cares about and he definitely doesn't trust her intentions. She comes from a time when aliens from outer space probably weren't even much of a concept but he's assuming she's familiar with more modern ideas.

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Not really caring for Brynmor's opinion on what she does with herself, Dionisia sarcastically comments, "Yes, and I'm sure by the way you dress that whatever it is that you do is a lot more interesting." It isn't too difficult to see that he's dressed to hide himself.

Which is perhaps understandable given the fact that he looks like some sort of monster, but then again she's certain that if he only applied himself properly to the task then he'd have been able to figure out a more comfortable existence for himself by now. He has, after all, had hundreds of years to work on that problem that she knows about, and she's guessing from his mannerisms that there were plenty more even before that. If he hasn't figured out how to get himself money and all the nice things that he could care to purchase with it, then that's his own fault.

Nearly finished with slicing the pineapple, she interrupts the process to prematurely enjoy a piece of it. Mmm, delicious! The day that they figured out how to import it from the tropics before it went bad was a very good day indeed. "That's right," she confirms his statement after she's swallowed that piece and returned to cutting.

Given the times that she's lived in and her knowledge of science, it wasn't until relatively recently that she guessed that the demon-looking creature she'd met all those centuries ago was actually an alien. But by now she's not surprised by the question that seems to confirm it - why would he care otherwise? She's not met many of them, but she's heard about them often enough to realize that they're definitely far more plentiful than demons in any event. But if he wants to know about her plans for aliens, he'll have to be more specific.

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Brynmor can't help the little amused curl of his lip as she seems to insult the way he lives, or at the very least his dress sense "You'd be surprised. The nights are entertaining around here" He still can't resist a fight when he happens to stumble upon one and on a night around Gotham, if he sticks to the bad area of town, he's almost always sure to walk right into one.

He tries to resist the urge to be that guy, it was a pointless exercise and yet it was still fun. Dionisia would probably expect him to still be the ruthless murderer, easily angered and quick to take revenge. He did kill her after all, that will stick in the memory even if it wasn't the first time she died. He's alright with her keeping that impression too. The more dangerous she thinks he is the better and he can't imagine she spends her nights haunting her own house either.

The little amusement sinks away again instantly. There are few things he considers his business but the dealings of aliens and immortals are two of the big ones and he narrows his eyes at her "What are you up to Dionisa? Aliens are none of your concern. You have no business in our lives...Or is it too obvious to crusade for ghosts?" He wasn't sure quite what she intended but he's sure somehow it was planned to end badly for everyone except her and he couldn't help taking a small jab at her nightly state.

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"You couldn't begin to imagine how entertaining my nights are, compared to yours," Dionisia immediately states with a bored tone, not needing to know anything about what it is that he does at night to be able to say that with full confidence. He is an obviously unusual being, but she's seen no sign that he can do anything more spectacular than healing quickly. She, on the other hand, gains a whole suite of amazing abilities at night that allow her to do... almost anything she wants, really. The primary exceptions are that she can't interact normally with people or do anything that draws too much attention to herself - but he has those problems already without any of the benefits that she has. And given the sheer difference in number of activities she could do to entertain herself at night, surely her nights are more fun.

That said, she still has to give him at least some level of respect - if only because, in spite of the advantages she feels like she has over him, he still has the capability of making her life really horrible if he should feel the need. Given her ability to regenerate she doesn't consider him to be dangerous to herself personally, but he certainly is dangerous to her goals. Of course, given that she is just as ruthless, hot-tempered, and vengeful as he is (if not more so), she would hope that he'd know that goes both ways.

With a final few cuts, she has the flesh of the pineapple separated from the rind and broken into pieces. Pausing to throw the rind away, she asks, "You object to having equal rights with the humans? Or do you just enjoy having to pretend to be one that much? Perhaps I'm simply being nice..." And perhaps pigs will fly. "And why would I crusade for ghosts? They don't need anything from mortals," she adds, using the knife to collect the pieces of cut pineapple into one spot before she begins to pop them into her mouth one by one.

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Brynmor merely shakes his head as she claims to have more fun at night. He's not going to argue on that, he really can't be bothered. Entertainment was a very subjective thing, she probably wouldn't enjoy doing what he did and he, well he might enjoy it for a while, he'd certainly find it useful and adapt to use it but give it a few hundred years, the moment it seems normal and ordinary he'd get bored of it too. He's not going to make it a contest anyway, if it was possible for him to get a headache such a thing would probably give him one.

It's a struggle for Brynmor to really see anyone as dangerous, even when they've proven it before. Logically he knows she can hurt him and she will if he gives her a reason to but deep down he just can't really bring himself to care, it's hard to even keep it in mind now he's sat down and simply talking. After a few minutes he's barely even keeping an eye on what she's doing with the knife or what she could do with that gun of hers. His sense of self preservation has worn down a lot since they last met.

There are a few things he still cares about, considers important or 'his business'. Immortals and aliens were top of the list mostly due to their rarity and the obvious personal connection. He actually laughs coldly when she suggests she's doing it to be nice "You're just insulting me if you expect me to believe that" He finally stands again and moves towards her, his temper flaring again "I'd love to give in this hiding but you are the last person I'd trust to have anything to do with it"

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"I don't," Dionisia replies immediately - of course she didn't expect him to believe her. She certainly wouldn't if the situation had been reversed, as it's very wise of him not to. Still, she doesn't seem to be in much of a hurry to give him a better answer - instead she asks, "What answer would you believe?" Because truthfully, the wise course of action is to not believe anything she says at all. Though if that's the case, what's the point of asking her anything at all if any answer you get is best regarded as a deception?

When he stands she doesn't move except to turn to face him, intent on holding her ground. Though she's not about to do anything aggressive, if he's paying attention to such details he may note that she's still idly holding the knife in her left hand as the right delivers the pieces of pineapple to her mouth. She has no interest in this conversation developing into anything more than that, but at the same time she's not about to let something so small as his mood and proximity intimidate her. If she set a precedent now of being that easy to manipulate, it would take a very long time to fix that, after all.

"This has nothing to do with you. I've been happily ignoring your existence for centuries now - why would I suddenly decide to do anything to you?" she asks, trying to get a better read on what sort of diplomatic options might be available to her here. Telling him exactly what she's up to is, of course, not an option. And she strongly suspects that it would be a useless gesture to try and persuade him that she actually has good intentions. But when those are removed, what is left?

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"Any answer I believed I would have to stop you for but why not attempt at the truth?" Brynmor responds bluntly, his mind already seeming to be made up. She was up to something and as far as he was concerned that was pretty much guaranteed to be a bad thing. So why hadn't he already tried to stop her? Come in, shot her and left? If he didn't care what her answer was why bother asking her in the first place?

It was complicated.

Far more used to fights with fists than tongues Brynmor does have a habit of trying to loom and look angry. It doesn't really matter to him whether it works on her or not since he's not making a conscious decision to do it, it just happens out of habit and he remains there, unaffected by her indifference to his old intimidation tactics.

It doesn't really surprise him to be told it's not about him. They haven't seen each other in centuries, if she was trying that hard he's got to figure he'd have noticed her attempting to mess with him before. It doesn't go anywhere to solving the question of why though and he doesn't look like he's going to leave without some sort of answer "What is it to do with? Have you even met another alien?" He's more than willing to wait out her stubbornness, he has the time even if he really lacks the desire to stick around that long.