[He sat as well-- not in a chair, but on the floor, back to the wall.]

It was just--

[He shoved a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. It was hard to recall the individual pieces of the nightmare; it was the dread and terror that remained. Polnareff's hand drifted down, rubbing his face.]

Half remembering and half imagining. About-- about it happening here. What I'd do if--

[That was stupid too. He lived in a household full of people used to fighting for their lives; even at his peak, he'd have no chance against all of them.]

I mean, god, Noriaki, do you ever think about how fucking close we were to just being his for the rest of our lives?