"I'm asking what decides all the bits of you that the thing from the tower didn't bother with, or that Wanda maybe didn't think of... What decides if you care for a meal she's never even heard of, the sound of an instrument she's never seen?"

I blink a few times, trying to clear my head enough to wrap it around the question. I think I try to answer once or twice, but close my mouth before I can answer.

"What makes me... me." I understand the question. But I am not sure how to answer it, if there is a answer.

"I would suppose I do. Whatever Rose did to keep me here gave me freedom from her sire, and with that free will came, I suppose." Shrug a little as I think about it. "I don't care for pineapple. Hate the stuff actually. Wanda loves it, so does Rose... and I don't think the one from the Tower truly cares for any food one way or another... so there's something I do not think was pre-planned by anyone and that I have formed my own opinion on." It is small, but it is what came to my mind. What an odd conversation for the middle of the night. Oh, speaking of...

"You mentioned a burial. Who died?" I do not recall seeing a death notice for anyone in town.