With her gaze turned floorwards, Octavia shook her head again, though this time it looked less like refusal and a little more like she was just trying to shake something off. She didn't know what she wanted.

But, then...

Tell me a story. About the Ground, or -- one of your myths.

She looked up again, and there was something almost hopeful, almost imploring, about her eyes. "Can you tell me about where you come from?"