[The man laughs in reply; in his caped Onyx persona, Ferran has found his guardian to be more openly smug, even theatrical. Insults haven't seemed to rattle him in the slightest, whether they're direct or subtle.]
I think you'd be right.
[There's a mild crease in Ferran's brow as he turns his gaze from the man to the Rito, though he keeps the former in his peripheral. Still, there's much more clarity there, and much less grief.]
I'm sorry about this. Just when I think I'm moving past something, it always seems to come back...
[But it's not like his situation is resolved in any way. His mind won't let him forget that, apparently—particularly the figment Ferran turns his attention back to.]
no subject
I think you'd be right.
[There's a mild crease in Ferran's brow as he turns his gaze from the man to the Rito, though he keeps the former in his peripheral. Still, there's much more clarity there, and much less grief.]
I'm sorry about this. Just when I think I'm moving past something, it always seems to come back...
[But it's not like his situation is resolved in any way. His mind won't let him forget that, apparently—particularly the figment Ferran turns his attention back to.]
You know you won't escape it, my dear.