#v. unspecified.

The number of times he's ever truly been afraid are small enough to count on one hand... although it's true that those times have cut deep enough to leave impressions and scars that will never fade away. What he's experiencing now is nothing like what he felt back then - yet he still hesitates to speak up, pressing his nails into his hands in frustration at his own pointless silence.

In the end, there was never a decision to be made here. He was never gonna leave Kazutora alone to suffer - so that's that.

"...You look like you've seen a ghost." Keisuke says, in a way that might sound amused if it wasn't tinged with something more melancholy, too. But even that feeling vanishes as he speaks again, lips curling upward into the ghost of a smile-

"Come on, Kazutora. You know I wouldn't leave you be that easily."

"It's not quite traditional art, but..."

Amanda seems like she's quite used to explaining the details of her craft to others. She talks as if she's done it a hundred times before, not sounding disinterested, exactly - but each word is clearly practiced; rehearsed, making it difficult to spot any passion underneath it all.

Difficult, but not impossible. Something has clearly drawn her to the creation of these displays, this interplay of light and shadow that's almost magical in the dreary atmosphere it creates. And somehow, when she talks to Edgar again, this time - her words suddenly seem to lose that practiced edge, becoming less routine and more genuine. Something about him intrigues her more than the others.

"Well, I think it can bring something that a simple drawing cannot. You're a creator yourself, aren't you? Do you have any thoughts?"

But right now, in this moment... the tangibility of those adult things - pain, and the desperation to escape it - are hitting her full force. She never imagined her heart could feel so bad. It's such a heavy, awful sensation... and though she's experienced similar emotions only once before, she'd almost managed to forget them - or at least, she'd forgotten exactly how they felt, under her skin and in her soul.

"...Mmm..." Ib hums uncertainly as she looks up at Garry, unable to find the words she wants to say. Has Garry really forgotten her? Even though he was always so kind... maybe, just like the adults have told her over and over, what happened back then wasn't real at all. Just her mind playing tricks on her. That thought scares her, but she's too distracted by her bewildered sorrow to really focus on it.

"Garry... please don't say that. Lying is bad. You... you do remember me, don't you?"

"I'm sorry... you came all this way and here I am complaining."

Sherry smiles apologetically at Leon, but while her words are sincere, there's no real shame in her voice - maybe because she feels sure that Leon probably doesn't mind her rambling. It's a bit embarrassing that she felt the need to unload on him at all, but... he's never been someone who's judged her, and she's confident enough that she would've picked up on it if this was a bad time.

Still, even just being able to sit here and talk to him makes her feel better. It feels like there's less of weight on her now, and not for the first time, she finds herself feeling glad - moments like these make it easier to deal with everything, and more than that, make everything feel worth it - a feeling she values more than anything else.

"Have you been doing alright? It's been a while since we could last talk."

Then again; the both of them here are in this room are in quite the state as it is. Beat-up and bruised, with scuffed clothing and bodies worn to the bone... it's not just Mirai who's in a bad way here, though he's probably got the worst of it overall. After all, Mirai... should undeniably be dead right now.

How and why he isn't is a question he's quite desperate for answers to - but it might have to wait until he's made sure to take care of the dangerous situation he's in. Still, it feels wrong... this place, himself, all of it - and it's only his training and instincts as a hero that are keeping him composed, even just barely.

"Overhaul... you're a stubborn man, aren't you...?" Just as much as the one talking, perhaps. "But somehow... I don't think you anticipated this."

Whether or not Chuuya feels the same way about him... is ultimately irrelevant, at least in part. After all, that's his own decision to make - and Verlaine mustn't make the mistake of trying to take choice from him again. But the final words Verlaine had heard on the day when he had "died" for the first time... are ones he holds dear, whether Chuuya has forgotten them or not.

Still, though. Today is a day that's different to the rest.

"It seems to me like you're troubled by something." -little brother. Though he doesn't speak those words aloud, they echo in Verlaine's mind all the same. "It's lucky that I happen to be in a listening mood. Well? ...Don't hold back on me now."

No matter when or where, there's no way that Ryouga wouldn't recognize that face. And as he meets their gaze, the surprised, almost vulnerable expression that comes over Ryouga lasts only for a few seconds before it's replaced by a more guarded expression - with his hands quickly shoved in his pockets so they won't betray their tension.

What he says next, though, is perhaps a little odd.

"...Should you be here?"

Trucy's voice sounds so innocent and earnest, but if you look closely, there's strong hint of mischief hidden behind her smile as she shows Phoenix the letter she's holding in her hand. To be precise, it's a love letter, signed anonymously, one that Trucy found mysteriously addressed to her only this morning.

And what would be a better idea than showing Phoenix? Honestly, Trucy doesn't know how he might react at all, but she's sure it'll be well worth seeing his reaction. She is his darling daughter, after all. Though maybe there's a part of her... that's genuinely curious as to his thoughts on it all, too.

"To be honest, I'm not very impressed... but don't you think the effort they put in is worth responding to? I wonder who the writer might be?"