There was something almost snake-like in the way that the sharp green gaze of Centurykit slowly focused in on the other kit. It was cold, analytical, hungry. It was not friendly, but perhaps in a strange way, it was not necessarily unfriendly, it was merely reptilian and foriegn in its sharpness, its coldness.

And yet, in spite his gaze, Centurykit didn't seem much more menacing than any other kit in the nursery. In fact, as Magpiekit greeted him, he merely lifted his head slightly in acknowledgement, tail unwrapping from where it had laid around his paws in an almost friendly manner, as if to seem more open. Though perhaps there was something almost slightly menacing in that too, its slow uncurling, uncoiling. "Centurykit." It was a simple response. And then his head slightly tilted, as if in some slight curiosity, though even in that which could have been seen as cute or endearing, it felt robotic and fake. "...What do you mean who am I looking for? I was daydreaming." It was a lie, a brazen lie, but the continued with it, a slight smile that curling onto her muzzle. "Sorry. I do that often."

"I don't really remember my daydreams after they're done, something like real dreams." It was another lie, they weren't even trying to hide it. But they said it so smoothly, so casually, like velvet off their tongue, that if you didn't care to read any further you could possibly believe it.

The kit's gaze followed Magpiekit as they moved beside him, it never wavered. As if a blink or to snap away their gaze would do something -- at least, one had to think he though it would do something, for the intensity he watched him with. But what that something was proved completely unreadable, blank bar a clearly feigned curiorsity.

Only once the other kit had taken a place beside them did their gaze fall away as they gently turned their head to the entrance, giving a small sound like a hum, like they were mulling something over, before turning back towards Magpiekit again. "I don't really care where I daydream, outside or inside. It's all the same to me when I'm inside my head." They said, their voice a rumble with something that was almost amusement at either the question or their own response, it was hard to tell which. "Why? Would you rather be outside?"

They took a moment, giving a small sway back in forth in some faintly rythmic motion, as if they were deep in thought. They closed their eyes for a small second, as if to further ponder, before they opened them again; lifting their head a bit as they did so as their gaze returned to the nursery exit once more. "I suppose. But I also figured that we'll know soon enough. Till then I've always guessed they eats what we eat; each other." They let that linger with a small, knowing grin that slipped onto their face, before giving a small, slightly embaressed laugh. As if it was a mistake, but there was no way it was truly a mistake. "As in, prey I mean. Mice eat squirrel, and squirrels eat birds, if they can get their paws on them. And if they're starving, if they have to, they'll eat herbs and bark and things like that." Centurykit elaborated, a sort of breezy carefreeness to his words, like it was soft and easily lost to the wind. But it could just as easily come accross as pointed and sharp, and that made their words comes with some and odd dichotomy. If they noticed such a thing, the kit didn't seem to care. They continued.

"But then again, I've seen a squirrel or two gather acorns off the ground, and I can't think of any other thing they'd want them for except to eat them, so what do I really know? It would be good to find out." They admitted, and they said it in a way that made it seem like it was a heavier realization to the kit than it really should have been.

There was another pause as the kit seemed to take moment to reflect, their paw gently lifting under their chin, resting it there for a moment as if in some deep consideration of the other kit's proposition. But after a few second, their paw gently lowered down, and they seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion.

"Maybe. But then we'd have to make sure that we didn't get our scent on them, that would probably scare them away. And it brings the question if collecting acorns would be worth the time it would take to have just hunted prey." They took a small pause again, as if giving consideration to some other, foreign argument that they had in their own head, their tail flicking a bit as they thought. But once more they appeared to have landed on some answer to a question that wasn't even given, and flashed a small smile at the other kit. "But of course, it wouldn't hurt to see an try. You never know, it could be a better system."

The kit's smile seemed to fade for a moment, but it returned a bit as a more awkward, or perhaps slightly embaressed version of his previous expression. It held a hollow sort of warmth, as most things with him did. Surface level, skin-deep. But in spite of its oddness, it stayed, and he spoke up again after giving a small, somewhat humbled laugh. "No, not yet. I don't think the apprentices like to spend that much time with me, and I've always figured I'll be an apprentice soon enough."

Even as the spoke, they knew well enough they'd likely soon be made an apprentice in the coming weeks. They were still young, tiny, kitten fluff not having even started to go away yet, but they were a larger kit and perfectly capable of training with the likes of kittens a lot older than them. Of course, those said kittens wouldn't have been even under consideration for apprenticeship in most other clans, but here Centurykit was just about at the mark of being able to join the ranks of tiny children who were being prepped to be soldiers. If that upset him at all, it wasn't evident in how he spoke. It was almost demure, very placid; perhaps he didn't care about it, or maybe it was so normal in Nightclan that even he couldn't be bothered to think it was odd. But either way, it was his inevitable future.

Centurykit nodded along with Magpiekit as he gave his advice, not saying anything for a while, letting the other kit show off what he knew. Of course, it would have been amiss to think that Centurykit hadn't watched the apprentices too; and he himself would have happily called it spying. That was a skill in itself here — spying, prying, looking into things that were by no means your buisness, and young as he was he had accepted it easily, if only because it was in some ways inherently natural to him. Although still he knew, in some small way, that the acceptance of it wasn't — or perhaps shouldn't — have come so naturally; not to society and perhaps not to him either, but there were more pressing things in the world to question than what was essentially an uspoken eccentricity that had become a perk for him.

As Magpiekit finished his tutorial, Centurykit paused, taking a fair amount of time to look over what Magpiekit was doing. He knew well enough it wasn't perfect just from sight and some slight recollection alone, but it wasn't as if he could do any better; or knew how to do any moves or stances at all, really. Normally he wouldn't have bothered to care or try, he was patient for when he'd learn the right way — it would mean less things to correct in the long run if he hadn't taught himself poor habits that would slow his training later. But Magpiekit had put in all the effort to show him, correct or not, and he wasn't inclined to let it go to waste. Slowly, hesitantly, he tried to copy the kit beside him, crouching low enough to the ground the white tufts of his belly fur were pooling beneath him on the hard cavern floor below; his tail in much of a similar position as it too stretched out behind him, lowlying to the ground floor. His muscles strained as he did it, painful enough to make him presume he was doing something wrong; either over-extending or putting the weight on the wrong muscle. He felt his legs tremble a little underneath him from the strain of it all, but he wasn't intent on falling over or breaking in his pose, not inclined to give up or show that he couldn't keep himself steady. It felt better to be wrong and be in pain than to give up, and so despite re-adjusting a bit, he kept himself in the same, slightly awkward crouch he had managed, turning his gaze back over to Magpiekit as he steadied himself once more. "Something like this?" He asked, the question soft and weightless on the air, just curious enough to be a question, just carefree enough to make it seem like the answer didn't matter much at all.