Reira's irrefutable and correct logic slices right through at least ten layers of Rex's defences in one decisive blow. If he stopped to contemplate it himself (which he would not) it would be obvious and a few others have reached a similar conclusion to her- but she's the only one to say it.

Rex has a lot to work through mentally as a result, but Indrik is a simpler being. His anxieties fade as easily as being shown affection. He even steps up onto the bench, which creaks but holds, to sit beside her and deliberately droops his mane across her head. It looks remarkably like she's wearing a huge red wig. In a way, Indrik expresses Rex's feelings for him, that instinctual desire to reward her for her simple kindness.

He also does it himself, a tiny glimmer of the gold of real happiness. But it's quickly swallowed by a pitch black loathing, directed entirely at himself. Cold, quiet, constant, not the raging flame of a hatred directed at someone else. He doesn't deserve that sort of opinion. It's a mistake only a child could make.

"...He is quite clumsy though," he decides to circumvent discussion on his feelings and point out the facts. "He often falls down or breaks things."

And Rex is always there to pick him up and fix it.