△ Who do you *really* care about, Kiyotaka?
A disbelieving scoff, and they kick a table into the wall. Their leg burns in agony; it's still broken, after all. They're limping. Like prey. (They hate being prey. They hate their nickname. They hate being known as something so easy to kill. Someone so easy to hurt.) That is a question they despise. A question that makes them need to rip something apart, beat the remains into pulp. "No one besides my hare." They growl. "NO ONE." The counter shatters at their punch. "DO YOU HEAR ME? NO ONE." (They're lying, they're lying, they're lying. They care about Fitzgerald's damned kids and his abhored wife and Louisa. They care about people that will never care for them.) They take a deep breath that doesn't calm them at all. "Ten. A fucking ten. Leave me alone."
