There are things about Vance that Illyana just can't understand.

Why he folds the used towels when they stop overnight at a motel instead of camping out, and then stacks them up neatly on the edge of the bathroom counter.

Why he objects to stealing the soap, shampoo, and conditioner from said motel rooms, even though everyone knows the motel just throws them out if you've opened them. And why he ignores it when she steals them anyway, but quietly declines to use them later.

Why he always gets dressed in the bathroom, even though she's told him truthfully that she really doesn't care if he walks around the room in his underwear.

Why he always splits everything exactly in half, or if it breaks unevenly, tries to insist she take the larger share even when she's told him she's not hungry.

Why he always thanks the people working at the convenience stores and fast food places, even when they've screwed up their orders or given the wrong change. And why despite that, he lets her go back and blow a fit when they get shorted an order of fries.

Why he won't fight with her, even when she's stolen the soap and short changed the convenience store and threatened to run her sword through the person who nearly ran them off the road at the last rest stop in Pennsylvania.

Why he hasn't asked about S'ym, or Limbo, or how she became a demon sorceress. She knows it's not disinterest; he's wanted to know ever since she first said she'd explain later. But he never asks.

Why he actually believed her when she said she'd explain later. And that he continues to believe it, despite knowing who and what she is.

Why he let her talk him into taking her with him.

There are things that she can understand, but suspects no one else would.

Why he sometimes stops smiling when he thinks no one is watching. And why his eyes look so much like those of a sad seven year old boy when he does.

Why he forces that smile in place, even when it's only the two of them and she knows that he knows it wouldn't bother her if he didn't.

Why he finds it so hard to take a compliment, even over something as simple as him having found a good parking place.

Why he likes to stop at scenic overlooks and stand there for way too long, staring out at the vast expanse of trees or water or whatever.

Why he doesn't want to go home, and why he doesn't want to talk about why he doesn't want to, despite the fact she knows he's spent the past three nights writing his mom a letter that he'll never send.