She has always wanted a pet.
To no avail, of course. She's not exactly well equipped, mentally, to handle a small animal of any type - rip its head off, maybe, but not feed it and fill its water bowl every day. (And then there was the time that her brother caught her setting fire to ants with a magnifying glass. Back when such things bothered him.)
Besides, after a while, the cat or dog or rabbit, or whichever poor animal might happen to fall under her care, would eventually bore her. If there's one thing she dislikes, it's boredom. And when she gets bored - well - let's just say things tend to get a bit bloody.
But this boy, he's different. He's interesting, with his strange facial marking and that snow white hair. She's encountered quite a few odd people in her lifetime, but she's never seen hair that color. It intrigues her, the perfect paradox to occupy her mind for the next few hours - how does someone so young acquire the hair color of an old man?
She wonders what would happen if he were to suddenly lose everything - his friends, whatever family he has left, his powers, the Black Order. She wonders how his face would look, crushed with disappointment.
A grin lifts the corners of her mouth and she steeples her fingers. He would make a lovely pet...