Byleth sighs at the answer, propping his chin in his hand. His eyes set on Emet-Selch with an unreadable gaze, clearly examining him before eventually turning away.

"I won't press you further on it then." There is so much he still doesn't understand. He regarded himself as 'very normal', but so many others treated him otherwise. In every direction. Fear and adoration. Curiosity and hate. It became abundantly clear that he needed to learn more, know more, about expressing himself.

There is no wrong way.

Hm.

"Thank you for your insight." He will glean from it what he can, and he would be remiss to not express some appreciation. He also knows when to push and when not to, however. People are fickle creatures no matter what place or time they are from, it seems. Instead, he shifts to a different idea.

"Would you care to dance?"