corglaciem
Kaworu finds himself with a question on the tip of his tongue, locked tightly behind his teeth. It isn’t something he can ask just anyone, not the locals at least. Not the ones that seem well melded into whatever society this place has. It doesn’t take him long to find someone that doesn’t seem particularly at ease here, so he assumes they’re fairly new. It’s a public bench the person is seated, so he doesn’t feel bad for taking up the unoccupied side of the seat.
❝Do you think it’s odd,❞ he begins after a few seconds, ❝that we all understand each other? A social experiment requires lots of different people and I’ve walked through the cultural sector, so I know there are all types here. By theory, some of us shouldn’t understand each other. How do you think they managed that?❞
