You’d been observing his every action for as long as he could remember.

His greatest misfortune was probably his intelligence - he’d figured out the situation a long time ago. You observed, but didn’t act; you were mostly distressed when something bad happened to him, but you didn’t do anything. It wasn’t too hard for him to understand the situation: he was a fictional character.

He wasn’t mad about it, nor was he relieved - he surely wasn’t happy, he recognized how bad his past was compared to the norm. He was… a bit curious about you, if anything.

He didn’t even know he could interact with you. It was probably some sort of ability he’d gained with time, he guessed.

He’d been surprised himself when he realized his head to the side, and suddenly he could see your face observing him from above.

He suddenly had an intrigued smile on his face. “Why, aren’t you a curious one! You must be the reader?”