[ His laugh fades naturally, but somewhere deep in the darkness of his mind a chord is struck. Not suddenly or sharply, but it resonates within him like a deep bass. ]
(No one's called me that in-)
[ He tries to recall, but sorting his memories of that time are muddled and confusing. Trying to count the years that have passed is like counting grains of sand slipping between open fingers. If anything, he doesn't seem upset. Just nostalgic for something he decides is better left buried in the dark. ]
(I prefer Mr. Helyanwe, but... I could get used to Gil again.)
[ For her. He was just saying it was about time he get over his aversion to blood - he may as well get over the custom formalities of names he's so used to. Hardly any of the hosts seem to use them.
His thoughts settle back to the song he'd been playing in the back of his mind. He pauses where he walks, and tries holding a hand out for her again. ]
(Would you mind showing me the way back to the tents, Miss Gilbert?)
no subject
(No one's called me that in-)
[ He tries to recall, but sorting his memories of that time are muddled and confusing. Trying to count the years that have passed is like counting grains of sand slipping between open fingers. If anything, he doesn't seem upset. Just nostalgic for something he decides is better left buried in the dark. ]
(I prefer Mr. Helyanwe, but... I could get used to Gil again.)
[ For her. He was just saying it was about time he get over his aversion to blood - he may as well get over the custom formalities of names he's so used to. Hardly any of the hosts seem to use them.
His thoughts settle back to the song he'd been playing in the back of his mind. He pauses where he walks, and tries holding a hand out for her again. ]
(Would you mind showing me the way back to the tents, Miss Gilbert?)