[ Hector's smile falters as he stares into his wine. All he sees in the glass is an old, tired man. ]
It is.
[ It is true. The voice, the dreams they had together—those themselves were harmless. What hurts is the reminder of what he could never have, yes. But he could have steeped in his dreams, his imagination for a little bit. If it weren't for his history, he would have lost himself in that world, laying there in the sky, talking to the wind.
But considering very recent developments in the house of mirrors... ]
But I laid those memories to rest a long time ago. They don't need dredging up like this.
[ He doesn't know why this game insists on ripping those wounds open again. That's what angers him. ]
no subject
It is.
[ It is true. The voice, the dreams they had together—those themselves were harmless. What hurts is the reminder of what he could never have, yes. But he could have steeped in his dreams, his imagination for a little bit. If it weren't for his history, he would have lost himself in that world, laying there in the sky, talking to the wind.
But considering very recent developments in the house of mirrors... ]
But I laid those memories to rest a long time ago. They don't need dredging up like this.
[ He doesn't know why this game insists on ripping those wounds open again. That's what angers him. ]