Amara was able to busy herself from thinking about her new foster brother as she unzipped her bag. The first things she pulled out was her small clay pot, the pens and pencils still intact, and then her poster. She unrolled it to inspect it, eyeing for any dents in the poster paper. It was a limited edition House of Night series poster with a girl on the cover among a smokey black background. She had a crescent moon at the top of her head, dainty designs following after each side of it that traveled down her temples and to her neck as she looked behind her. In the darkness was a man with black hair and a simpler crescent moon tattoo on his forehead. She found peace at looking at it before she dumped the back onto the bed. Kindle, charger, two worn pairs of straight-legged jeans (a light-wash and dark-wash pair), a few under shirts, a few tank tops, a few sweaters, a cargo jacket, and some undergarments. This was all she had to call hers in a world like this.

She hesitated when she heard his questions before she began to refold her clothes and put them in the small dresser that sat beside the nightstand. Her lips formed a thin line, contemplating what exactly she should say, regardless of what little there was to say.

"This is my eighth home," she murmured to him. She knew she shouldn't have told him that, not so quickly. And with her words came the fear that he would judge her. God, what he must think of her...

She turned to him, her eyebrows slightly risen with seriousness. A few in the past had labled it her "bitch face".

"Look. You seem really nice, Malcolm. But I really don't want to talk. Not to anyone, not anymore than I have to." She began talking with her hands, using them for emphasis. "I really want this home to be my last home and the only way I can make that happen is if I just stick to the silence. Got it?" she pushed. She honestly didn't want to get into any trouble she had gotten into in the past.