A pensive atmosphere was the situation between Tristan and Isril. Both were seated on the benches provided within the changing room, and their expressions mirrored their troubled thoughts.
Isril stared into the air, processing all that Tristan had just told him. He trembled, allowing his gaze to land on his new friend. He struggled to imagine everything he had told him and even wondered if all he had heard was too much.
"You sure you want to trust me with that?" Isril asked at some point, swallowing hard, waiting for Tristan's response.
"I wondered that too, then I remembered that even if you knew, and if all the class knew, it wouldn't change anything," Tristan explained, his tone soft and thoughtful.
All Tristan had told him was how he had lost his memories and been found by the enforcers. He didn't give too many details, and omitted ones like how he had killed, or the ones where he had an adopted mother.