And he did.

He talked at length about training and traditions, about how the male heirs of the noble families were expected to enter the Gotei Thirteen. From him, she learnt that the shinigami had not come to the real world to take her life; they did not cause death, but they managed it. There was a balance between the world of the living and the world of the dead: a balance maintained by the arbiters, the Central Forty-six, or perhaps even by a greater power existing behind them. The shinigami themselves were not capable of perceiving the balance, but they responded to the directions of the Central Forty-six with unquestioning obedience. He spoke with passion about loyalty. Faith. Honour. Ideals that had had no place in her life.

But she learnt other things too, the things that slipped between his words. She learnt that he was alone, that his family had been killed and that he was the last of his bloodline.

She learnt that, if he didn't want to speak of a thing, he would not show discomfort in either his expression or his tone, but he would not meet her eye. She learnt that he preferred to look at her when she was looking away, that he smiled rarely, but that, when he did, it was a beautiful thing

She learnt that, despite a century of silence, conversation came naturally to her. She had slept for a hundred years it seemed and had finally woken.

Here.