â â;; Raising his helm at the response â or statement really âcause him some confusion, hoping the other would elaborate his meaning of him not dreaming at all or limited before he got his hope. Giving a small nod, he crossed his arms as he listened before perking, tensing up as its pushed further that the DJD are his when its far from the truth.Â
                 They were never his. Sure, by name, the faction but they own themselves, they only follow Tarn now anyway. His own days were numbered â and he honestly didnât want to remember that.
                Grimacing he vented. âOne; they arenât mine. Not anymore. Besides, Iâm on the list now anyway..â squints, rubbing the back of his neck. âSecondly, I donât know what to say, since sorry wonât fix anything at all.â he murmured, going quiet.Â
âââ âJust because theyâre not yours NOW doesnât mean you no longer have any responsibility to them. You created them. You let them develop into who they are now. Just because youâre their enemy now, too, doesnât clear you of anything.â His visibly bristles, servos separating. They clench into small fists in his lap, joins creaking from the strain. âWhile âsorryâ wonât bring them back, it would show remorse. Which, clearly, you donât seem to have.â
Static was beginning to lace his words as he speaks, visor squinting up at the former warlord as if he wasnât quite believing what he was hearing. Did no one show an ounce of respect for the deceased, anymore?
âTheyâre dead, now. . . theyâre all dead and I should be, too,â his vocal synthesizer hitched painfully, âBut Iâm not. And now I see their deaths every time I reset my optics.â