[Accidental Video/Action]
[The video feed comes on to a fairly normal sight for Gilbert, which would be him staring down an unlit cigarette as though daring it to say something. It won't, of course. No answers are forthcoming from the cigarette. The feed wobbles a bit, the picture anlged upwards as though it was just set down beside him. It was. He's not aware he's broadcasting his thoughts to anyone but the empty bedroom.
And Gilbert needs answers, after his conversation the evening before. Jack Vessalius is here. Beyond that, he knows him, knew him, in those forgotten years.]
It doesn't make any sense. [Except it does, thinking about it.] Who does... who does that make me?
[He's not even sure anymore. It's a jumble in his head, the things he's learned. Trying to reconcile them gives him a headache.] ...and how... why...
[He trails off. He's not aware he's talking to anyone but himself, after all. He rolls the cigarettes between his fingers, eyes fixed on it, though his gaze is distant, somewhere far away from here. If he served Jack Vessalius, what trick of fate was it for him to fall at Oz's feet, to become his servant. But no. He won't believe his allegiance is somehow contrived or artificially set up.]
I should ask... [And here he glances down past his cigarette, eyes falling on the watch. Realizing it's on, his eyes widen and he reacts quickly -- and true to form, without much success. He knocks it down to the floor, the feed showing the spinning view of his bedroom as he chases after it and grabs for it again before finally turning it off.]
And Gilbert needs answers, after his conversation the evening before. Jack Vessalius is here. Beyond that, he knows him, knew him, in those forgotten years.]
It doesn't make any sense. [Except it does, thinking about it.] Who does... who does that make me?
[He's not even sure anymore. It's a jumble in his head, the things he's learned. Trying to reconcile them gives him a headache.] ...and how... why...
[He trails off. He's not aware he's talking to anyone but himself, after all. He rolls the cigarettes between his fingers, eyes fixed on it, though his gaze is distant, somewhere far away from here. If he served Jack Vessalius, what trick of fate was it for him to fall at Oz's feet, to become his servant. But no. He won't believe his allegiance is somehow contrived or artificially set up.]
I should ask... [And here he glances down past his cigarette, eyes falling on the watch. Realizing it's on, his eyes widen and he reacts quickly -- and true to form, without much success. He knocks it down to the floor, the feed showing the spinning view of his bedroom as he chases after it and grabs for it again before finally turning it off.]