[He knows himself. He knows himself, and therefore the laugh. Of course this place would bring something like this to the surface. It started with memories, and now this.
There's a joke here about what would you do if you ever found your own doppelganger, which could go from funny to some Freudian approach to how people need therapy.
Mamoru isn't really focusing on that, though, mind settled around him, cast on the person approaching — Gu Yun, he remembered hearing that in his mind before — and their surroundings. He knows what he's doing; a man relegated to the inside of his mind, whether by his own self-imposed loneliness or his own physical disability, sits with his thoughts often and long enough to know where the fuck ups are, fought them, was defeated, and accepted them.
(Used them as a convenience, sometimes.)
The quirk of his lip he sends the Marquis is just as dry, but the snap he does throw is aimed over his shoulder.] Done your assessment?
[The voice that replies is moving, scattered. He feels like laughing again. Of course, even as a reflection, he wouldn't just be a sitting duck. 'I have. Wasn't planning on fighting two, but you know I ain't opposed.'
Still, while his thumb is lying ready on the hilt of his cane, just enough to flick the blade out of its sheath, Mamoru knows that he wouldn't attack anyone from behind, anyway, in this case.
He sends a look to Gu Yun.] That answer your question?
no subject
[He knows himself. He knows himself, and therefore the laugh. Of course this place would bring something like this to the surface. It started with memories, and now this.
There's a joke here about what would you do if you ever found your own doppelganger, which could go from funny to some Freudian approach to how people need therapy.
Mamoru isn't really focusing on that, though, mind settled around him, cast on the person approaching — Gu Yun, he remembered hearing that in his mind before — and their surroundings. He knows what he's doing; a man relegated to the inside of his mind, whether by his own self-imposed loneliness or his own physical disability, sits with his thoughts often and long enough to know where the fuck ups are, fought them, was defeated, and accepted them.
(Used them as a convenience, sometimes.)
The quirk of his lip he sends the Marquis is just as dry, but the snap he does throw is aimed over his shoulder.] Done your assessment?
[The voice that replies is moving, scattered. He feels like laughing again. Of course, even as a reflection, he wouldn't just be a sitting duck. 'I have. Wasn't planning on fighting two, but you know I ain't opposed.'
Still, while his thumb is lying ready on the hilt of his cane, just enough to flick the blade out of its sheath, Mamoru knows that he wouldn't attack anyone from behind, anyway, in this case.
He sends a look to Gu Yun.] That answer your question?