[her eyes widen as she views the figure, sees his face, and a smile unbidden springs to her lips. but before she can say his name, differences start to register. he's younger, she thinks, shorter, and she can't hear the notes in his voice of the Drabwurld, the slight twist on the vowels they all had.
something's wrong. something's very, very wrong, and her heart feels like someone seized it. it's a similar sensation when she'd seen Waver smaller and unlike anything she knew but in borrowed memory, a sense of the world dropping away in a certain section in her, and the smile fades right after it springs up. this is wrong. this is wrong, and she doesn't know what to do.
all she can manage is to pull herself back, to try and be remote, even if that's so much harder now. it hurts to deny it all, but she can pretend everything's fine, pretend she'll be okay, that this will sort itself out.]
Courtesy is a reflex, I'm afraid. And you must be Hiro Hamada. A pleasure.
[it's more artificial than she wants it to be, but she's trying.]
no subject
something's wrong. something's very, very wrong, and her heart feels like someone seized it. it's a similar sensation when she'd seen Waver smaller and unlike anything she knew but in borrowed memory, a sense of the world dropping away in a certain section in her, and the smile fades right after it springs up. this is wrong. this is wrong, and she doesn't know what to do.
all she can manage is to pull herself back, to try and be remote, even if that's so much harder now. it hurts to deny it all, but she can pretend everything's fine, pretend she'll be okay, that this will sort itself out.]
Courtesy is a reflex, I'm afraid. And you must be Hiro Hamada. A pleasure.
[it's more artificial than she wants it to be, but she's trying.]