[Mamoru casually snorts.] You don't have to say shit you don't mean.

[That, that he does remember. The hushed voices at the funeral, gasps, and shared glances, interrupted talks between acquaintances and distant family leaning on how you shouldn't say something like what they were saying in front of a child. Pitiful looks aimed at him for having lost his parents instead of rage and indignation about the man that killed them. It was all misplaced, and so are this guy's condolences.

Mamoru glances around.] I got what I wanted from this and it's not sympathy. Think of it as more of a reframing.