[ This is where he takes a moment to think, and it's one of those moments where hypothetically there would be three paragraphs of introspection about Bad Times and how he wishes, fervently, that he could go back to the times where he could actually say to other people that he was "satisfied with life because I love my wife".
The last time he said that to his friend-turned-rival-turned-enemy-turned-something, he'd had to kill him, so.
Nothing good comes out of being optimistic; at least, in terms of his own life. ]
It's different, to be sure. We wouldn't be speaking, if we were back in my world.
[ What a rude thing to say... but it's the truth. He wouldn't be nearly so verbose (which is hilarious given that he doesn't talk that much anyway), and he wouldn't entertain the notion of being friends so lightly— not even that, he wouldn't even have a chance. Or a choice. ]
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The last time he said that to his friend-turned-rival-turned-enemy-turned-something, he'd had to kill him, so.
Nothing good comes out of being optimistic; at least, in terms of his own life. ]
It's different, to be sure. We wouldn't be speaking, if we were back in my world.
[ What a rude thing to say... but it's the truth. He wouldn't be nearly so verbose (which is hilarious given that he doesn't talk that much anyway), and he wouldn't entertain the notion of being friends so lightly— not even that, he wouldn't even have a chance. Or a choice. ]