☘ 009; [action]
[introspection]
[Certain parts of Lancer's most recent conversation with Rin had lingered in his mind ever since, making the former Servant wonder--if only for a moment--if he was doing the right thing. If a situation arose that found Rin to be in danger and needing a Servant, then Lancer would give Mayfield whatever the damn place wanted in order to become a Servant. Gods only knew what kind of things he could lose in that situation, but if that was the price of keeping his oath to his Master...]
[If that was the case, wouldn't it be better if he was prepared for such a situation before it happened? One trip to the post office and he'd be back to normal. Able to stand against Gilgamesh, Saber, Assassin...and Archer. Lancer was every bit as much a hero as they were, and yet he was still so far behind them. It was a blow to his pride, and pride was one of the most important things Cu Chulainn had.]
[The thought was a tempting one...but the risks outweighed any benefits and Lancer knew that. He had no idea what it would take to reclaim his status as a Servant; he could probably forget everyone he knew. Rin, Connla, Sakura, Garviel, Diarmuid, Nina--could he risk losing everything for the sake of his pride and abilities? And if he forgot who his Master was, how the hell would he know to protect her when the situation presented itself?]
[...No, Lancer was fairly certain now that he'd been right to shoot down Rin's idea of turning to the post office. It was too much risk for too little reward, simple as that.]
[But if he didn't go back to being a Servant soon, Lancer knew the time might come where he would have no other choice.]
[A; afternoon; around Mayfield]
[There is a distracted Lancer wandering around the city in general. Which may be odd, as more often than not 'distracted' is not a word that would describe him that well. He's off guard, lost in thought, and probably just walked right past you.]
[B; evening; Olney's Tavern]
[That night would find one bartender leaning back in a chair and writing in a gray notebook. A second dark blue one is on the bar next to him, ignored for the moment. What he could possibly be writing is anyone's guess. Also difficult to determine is whether or not trying to read it would even do any good.]
[Certain parts of Lancer's most recent conversation with Rin had lingered in his mind ever since, making the former Servant wonder--if only for a moment--if he was doing the right thing. If a situation arose that found Rin to be in danger and needing a Servant, then Lancer would give Mayfield whatever the damn place wanted in order to become a Servant. Gods only knew what kind of things he could lose in that situation, but if that was the price of keeping his oath to his Master...]
[If that was the case, wouldn't it be better if he was prepared for such a situation before it happened? One trip to the post office and he'd be back to normal. Able to stand against Gilgamesh, Saber, Assassin...and Archer. Lancer was every bit as much a hero as they were, and yet he was still so far behind them. It was a blow to his pride, and pride was one of the most important things Cu Chulainn had.]
[The thought was a tempting one...but the risks outweighed any benefits and Lancer knew that. He had no idea what it would take to reclaim his status as a Servant; he could probably forget everyone he knew. Rin, Connla, Sakura, Garviel, Diarmuid, Nina--could he risk losing everything for the sake of his pride and abilities? And if he forgot who his Master was, how the hell would he know to protect her when the situation presented itself?]
[...No, Lancer was fairly certain now that he'd been right to shoot down Rin's idea of turning to the post office. It was too much risk for too little reward, simple as that.]
[But if he didn't go back to being a Servant soon, Lancer knew the time might come where he would have no other choice.]
[A; afternoon; around Mayfield]
[There is a distracted Lancer wandering around the city in general. Which may be odd, as more often than not 'distracted' is not a word that would describe him that well. He's off guard, lost in thought, and probably just walked right past you.]
[B; evening; Olney's Tavern]
[That night would find one bartender leaning back in a chair and writing in a gray notebook. A second dark blue one is on the bar next to him, ignored for the moment. What he could possibly be writing is anyone's guess. Also difficult to determine is whether or not trying to read it would even do any good.]