Jhanna had never quite understood Donatello, and that's why he remained so intriguing. He was completely untouched by her culture and untouched by the humans' that he lived under; he knew only of his brothers and his father whom of which he had left for her. She did not understand.
But tonight, when he bowed his head silently to her before he began to eat his meal, she understood him. She understood why. And she hated it. He was beginning to think like an Omatran; act like one, talk like one. He was becoming the monotony that she despised.
The Prime Magistrate shook her head at her lover. "Do not bow to me, Donatello. You are my equal. Equals do not bow."
"Sure they do," he was quick to remark. "Before sparring, my brother and I would bow to each other as a sign of respect."
And then Jhanna realized she never understood. She had just misunderstood. Her intriguing turtle was back. A smile flashed across her face and she bowed her head back before spooning some of her food into her mouth.