[That small sound is different enough to how one daughter would respond to know she is the other. His mind forms opinions of her speech, connecting sanitised emotions to lacklustre art. But when she slurs and looks ready to slide off her chair, he finds his heart twisting with concern. The feeling is unnatural but at the same time as familiar as the rhythm of his heart.
He continues levelling her with a cold and calculating stare. Even in this world, he must worry about the danger she could pose. Even in this world, where he thought he could rest.]
Would I ever leave her side?
[His voice hovers one octave below anger; tired and disappointed that she is reminding him of his separation from his wife.]
Or do you suppose I would abandon her and get drunk on my own illusions?
no subject
He continues levelling her with a cold and calculating stare. Even in this world, he must worry about the danger she could pose. Even in this world, where he thought he could rest.]
Would I ever leave her side?
[His voice hovers one octave below anger; tired and disappointed that she is reminding him of his separation from his wife.]
Or do you suppose I would abandon her and get drunk on my own illusions?