And he's emo-ing.... again.
*Oh, he'd love to be curled up alone in his bed with nothing but his own alternately self-pitying and self-loathing thoughts surrounding him, but it is not to be. So here's Komui, on Halloween night, standing in a kitchen trying to feed a fussy baby the Earl dropped into his arms. A baby that ruined the last good thing about his sorry life, he muses angstily. Well, the last two things if you count his freedom. The little girl that already looks so much like him is a prison. And when the baby won't drink the formula, even though he knows she's hungry from reading her mind, it's the last straw. Tears drop onto the little blanket she's wrapped in. He looks down at her and wonders what she'd say if she could think. Wonders if she'd be like him. Suddenly holding her a little tighter. They have something in common, the two of them. No one wants them.
He feels a tug at the leg of his pants and realizes maybe he's not entirely right. There's a Banette hugging his leg. He sighs, still crying. Speaking silently.*
What am I going to do, Cecil? Nothing's going right. Is it all really my fault?
He feels a tug at the leg of his pants and realizes maybe he's not entirely right. There's a Banette hugging his leg. He sighs, still crying. Speaking silently.*
What am I going to do, Cecil? Nothing's going right. Is it all really my fault?