She kind of just messed with the can, not sure of what to say

He finished and seemed honestly awkward. Last night had been nice but now he felt like it made things feel more awkward than silent in a way that neither wanted to speak to one another.

It's not that she didn't want to speak, just that she wasn't sure what to say

Same on his side, he started cracking his knuckles awkwardly.

She decided to talk about the first thing she thought of. "He was just...incredible, actually," she told him. "I mean, no one else even knew about angels, much less how to kill them. Dad learned it all on his own, testing different ways to destroy them--he should have gotten himself killed a hundred times over, but he didnt somehow."

He looked to her, listening to be polite. He was wondering why she'd just randomly spoken about her dad.

"Then, about six months later, when he had his funding and was ready to start training other people, we moved to the camp with him. He was still traveling a lot then, though--he had to recruit new AKs, follow leads, that kind of thing. It was a few years before the camp really got off the ground." Electa smiled wryly, playing with a camping fork. "And then another few years after that before he started to lose it."

He gently put a hand to her shoulder.

She didn't seem to notice. Electa tapped the fork lightly against the table. "For--I dont know--five years, maybe, Dad was the best of the best. I mean, nobody was a better AK than him. And it wasn't just hunting; it was strategy, too, and training and organizing the hunts. But then he just...got obsessed. Do you think I'm getting obsessed?"

He thought a moment. "Of course not, it's just what you do and for a great reason. You're determined, not obsessed."