[The ease off on her leg, she appreciates. The soft brush against her cheek?]

Guagh—

[Pardon her as she wrenches her head the other way. Toko refuses to watch him lick her tears off his fingers. There are no unholy mouths sprouting to do the job this time, but she can't stand it. How can anyone be so openly depraved? Why her? She was nothing, a flea, a stain, a spec of dirt. No man ever paid her mind except to tell her to fuck off. Now the one she can't shake is a literal monster.]

It's a fucking sp-split-personality, all right?! [Though she keeps her voice low, it's still spewing venom. Would an ancient youkai even know what that was? He knew enough to use the network, but she wants to squash the Q and A before it starts.] It's a m-m-mental illness. Like a whole other person in my head. She's the one who c-cut those marks.

[Toko takes a moment. Two seething breaths. Then she looks him in the eye (eyes, god those little extra slits were creepy), lip curling in disgust. There's a fresh line of wetness at her lashes. Her throat threatens to close up.]

There. M-mystery solved. Now let go.