"And how do you know an omen from a nightmare brought on by kidnappings and odd foods?"

Not that he's trying to be argumentative, though it's truly his nature, but he can see that being a problem as well. Anything can be seen as an omen if you're, well, looking for omens.

He gives her a look at that.

"It was a flower? Why do moths represent death? Why..." He stops though because it's hitting too close to home. He doesn't want to believe in omens and portends but he knows something else he hasn't talked about.

"Before the d... before those things started roaming, I kept smelling rot. Even the food tasted rotten. It's been going on for days," he admits, not admitting to how little he's had to eat in that time before of it though.

That world out there has him living in uncertainty. He's not sure how to handle it, and he doesn't know how long he can stay in this place either. It's all madness, and he hates how out of control it is.

"And does this look like your home? The one where you grew up?"

He means her parents caravan, direct to the items he seems and the colors she's chosen.