There was seldom a good memory to connect to the faces of Martin's past life; much was the same in Aileen's case. The woman had meant so well, tried in her ways to tend to him...all ways turned foul and wrong by his own twisted biology. It wasn't truly her fault, nor his; he didn't know what he was, what he was changing into. It was bad for everyone.

Yet his suffering was done, gone for good. He held no one in Exsilium accountable for it. And when he turned his head and looked her way, no shade of accusation or distaste passed over his features. Mild curiosity, then the click of awareness (it'd be a challenge to mistake that hair color for anything). And then a second realization. I don't remember her name.

"Hello," he replied, the smile small, already apologetic.