( He'd struggled when he'd been held down, but he seems frustrated when the weight eases off him. There's not a lot worse than being angry with someone because you love them, but finding lack of argument in them because they feel nothing in turn. Macha only seems more agitated.

He doesn't seem particularly motivated to push himself up, and so he stays lying down. The sound of waves crashes gently in the background. His chest aches, like an open wound. )

... I don't love myself. I love other people.

( His gaze remains fixed on the sky, its shade something only he, for now, sees; but his other eyes, they drift toward his guest. )

I got these injuries from a data collection attempt, so it was worth the risk, anyway. I can remove someone from this Area just short of them killing me.

( He doesn't bother reiterate why he had put so much into collecting this data. He knows ██████ doesn't really care. )