[he does come closer, more interested in the blood that lashes out from her than the young version of her in the mirror. it's an instinct almost, the way he sees things, and her anger could blind her to how he approaches and is trying to analyze it, except-
except, the image changes, and it's no longer her and her mother. it's someone standing in front of others in a junkyard of a landscape, a young man looking at them and speaking with a serious expression - a younger version, in fact, of the man who's standing behind her, looking taken aback from the sight of this in front of him. that day...that one that had changed so much.
Chrollo takes one step back, then another, waiting for it to pass. he wants this to end. (he wants to be alone, and look at their faces in the mirror.) but he's not alone, and he needs to maintain control.]
no subject
except, the image changes, and it's no longer her and her mother. it's someone standing in front of others in a junkyard of a landscape, a young man looking at them and speaking with a serious expression - a younger version, in fact, of the man who's standing behind her, looking taken aback from the sight of this in front of him. that day...that one that had changed so much.
Chrollo takes one step back, then another, waiting for it to pass. he wants this to end. (he wants to be alone, and look at their faces in the mirror.) but he's not alone, and he needs to maintain control.]
...Well then.