[he watches them adjust their cloak with a sort of focus that's disproportionately intense; anything, really, to keep him from having to look at the body. It's not that he's squeamish - he's about as far from it as they come, honestly - but he doesn't want to look at it.]
[It's just more hurt, that way.]
[The answer he gets isn't unexpected at all, knotting together those ends that had already been loosely tied, but it doesn't give Ichimatsu much joy to hear it. He just nods, understanding. He notices the tense change, and realizes that he'd used the present, too; maybe that was something of a Freudian slip. He's not sure.]
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[It's just more hurt, that way.]
[The answer he gets isn't unexpected at all, knotting together those ends that had already been loosely tied, but it doesn't give Ichimatsu much joy to hear it. He just nods, understanding. He notices the tense change, and realizes that he'd used the present, too; maybe that was something of a Freudian slip. He's not sure.]
Let me guess... changed the world, huh?