"Doctors," he answers promptly, dispassionately. He glances up at her fearlessly, wide-eyed and... well, seemingly like any other child... then turns back to his work. Satisfied with the intricate tracery of lines he sets the crayons aside and starts to fold the paper as one would a fan, into narrow, even strips; once they're blocked out he begins creasing the edges in earnest.

"You're not one of them."