[ It takes a moment—the massacre is ancient history to Cain, at only twenty-two years. But it doesn't take that long for what he's learned of it to come to him, and his eyes dart down pensively.

...Of course. He and Bradley are a lot alike, but Bradley's still a Northerner, at the end of the day.

The movement in the corner of his eye brings his attention back, and he frowns. He gets it. He gets it, and that's why he feels so conflicted. ]

...Right.

[ He'll step in side, and place a hand on Bradley's shoulder. A quiet little way of saying, I don't hold it against you right now. ]

And you've been their prisoner for a hundred years. [ Slotting it together. ] ...They haven't treated you like that the whole time, have they?