"Of course I've had goals!" Mason replied with a small grin. "And we were just talking about my brother, remember..." He shrugged. "No, it's more that my goals have never seemed that pressing. And most of the time they boil down to 'have a good time' or 'earn some more money.' When I say I've never felt responsible for something, I mean that I don't feel like I'm obligated to do anything, most of the time." He scratched an ear idly. "And it's not like I had to look out for my brother, usually...he is older than me, though only by about a year and a half."

Troy silently watched the bit of grass in Pacha's fingers, then mirrored the action with a look of concentration on his face. From the motions, it didn't really look like he knew what he was supposed to feel from it. He could feel the grass leaf brushing over his scales, but it was a very slight feeling...like what it felt like when he moved around, except just one little spot. It brought a question to mind that he decided he'd ask later...specifically what walking felt like. But for now, there was a different question that he really wanted to know.

"What's a...dangerous voice?" He asked quietly. "Does it...hurt?" Danger, to Troy meant something that could hurt him. A voice seemed like a strange thing to be dangerous, to him.