He let go of his shirt to fish around inside of a pocket for a handkerchief to dab his eyes with. Once his face was clear of tears, he crossed his arms and flicked his head to survey the empty tables and warm atmosphere of the gym- which had, over the course of their conflict, undergone a homelier shift. No more icy chandeliers or lavish decor. It seemed much more welcoming and familiar, like they were home instead of a far-off dream.

"It's odd... Your presence," he addressed nonchalantly, fingers digging uncomfortably into his sleeves. "It feels... powerful, somehow. Imposing. It's nothing like you, and yet... It feels everything like you. I don't understand."