Christopher chuckles. Not mocking, not guarded. As strangely gentle and serene as his smile. "Oh? Then you must understand enough to let this whole boring old topic go."

Christopher is a broken and twisted creature, and that is how he is able to be self-aware. Or perhaps it's better to say that he would never have to be so twisted as he is if Huey hadn't given him that self-awareness. Christopher knows the truth: that his love is just a rearrangement of his hatred, that his worship is just a translation of fear, that everything he makes himself feel for Huey is just survival strategy. He knows that he hates Huey for forcing this self-awareness on him, even as he makes himself believe that he is grateful for the blessing of such consciousness.

So Christopher can make a very educated guess at what Collette is saying. She won't tell him what he doesn't want to hear. What he can't hear. And he is honestly, truly grateful for that. It becomes unbearable, trying to be around people who would tell him things he already knows and must deny.

"So tell me," he says, and the grin becomes big and broad, "are you rebel against the rebels or a rebel who don't defect?"