[He's homesick and he doesn't really try to hide it. He misses his friends, his Family, his normal routine. But, he's also got to do his best while he's here. A way home will come, he just has to hold on to that.]
[Hmph... this certainly wasn't the mood he intended to foster, but he supposes the nature of the occasion makes it hard not to, even aside from whatever he happens to contribute. He can try to turn it around, at least.]
[The little things... important, Tsunayoshi says. So people always seem to say, because that's all they can cling to. He wonders when the last time he believed in such things was...
[The simple things, but even he can't argue they're not essential in their own way. No man is an island, as they say.]
It's lucky to come across people like that, don't you think?
[He can't say he feels that there's anyone he truly feels he could go to over his own worries—or that he's felt that way since he was a boy, if then. Still...]
[It sounds like he means it. He does, in a way. But after he sets his chin on his folded hands, he decidedly does not mean it when he continues—offering hopeful nonsense he could never really believe, even as he puts every effort into making it sound sincere:]
There's an entire universe of possibilities out there, hm? Perhaps it's not out of the question.
[Polite indeed. But they haven't quite reached a point where Tsuna feels he needs to say something.]
Well, I think I'd like to show them my hometown, and introduce them to my friends at home.
Find something we could all do together. Kinda depends on the season but something watching the fireworks at a festival, or a snowball. Something like that.
I don't think you'd find anyone who'd argue with that.
[It's how people work, after all. They cling to whatever they can get. He sets his drink down during that pause, eyes wandering to those few others about. What makes this place cling to them in particular, he wonders briefly before Tsuna's question catches his attention again. Eyebrows raised, he takes a moment to apparently ponder.]
It would depend on the person. [He has no one he truly considers a friend back home, however true or not that may be, to introduce, and the city he lives in is... fine. Even aside from all that, he's weeks away at most from his final goal, and then...
He lets out a breath, a faint furrow in his brow, as if he's puzzled by his own lack of imagination.] I suppose... I'd just want to speak with them.
[In the grand scheme of things, of course, but... also because the subject would be less important. Words are less important to him than their presence, once he's gotten to know anyone worth caring about in particular. But he tries not to think very much about anyone in particular; it would just be a waste of his focus for no real benefit, much like this gathering.]
... It would be more about having the company again, I'd think.
[Altius raises his glass to his lips again, allowing himself a moment to wash away his errant thoughts—wordless notions of loss, deserving and worth dissolved with a faint burn.]
That's right.
[He sits back, eyes settling over the little tables that have been set up for the purpose of memorializing those who've escaped this awful prison.]
Well... don't let me keep you from your friends and making something of all those memories.
[The man's eyes widen with mild surprise, and he blinks before he manages to come to a response.]
... That's sweet of you to say.
[In those eyes he sees a reflection of others he knows well. The eyes of young people all fighting for and believing in the future. The eyes of those he's wanted so badly to save from the suffering and despair he discovered instead. And now he's aware of so many more, in worlds out of reach of the merciful sleep he'd thought would be all-encompassing.
There's something kind but almost mournful to his smile when he continues.]
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[He's homesick and he doesn't really try to hide it. He misses his friends, his Family, his normal routine. But, he's also got to do his best while he's here. A way home will come, he just has to hold on to that.]
A few things, yeah. Just a few memories.
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Anything you'd enjoy sharing ahead of time?
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[He has to think for a moment.]
A lot of the times are really just hanging out at the clubhouse. And the way that they'd all help me out.
Stuff like that. They're little things, but they're important.
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His eyebrows rise curiously.]
Help you out, with what sorts of things?
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Stuff like that, you know?
[And well, knowing him enough to open up about his mafia background.]
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[The simple things, but even he can't argue they're not essential in their own way. No man is an island, as they say.]
It's lucky to come across people like that, don't you think?
[He can't say he feels that there's anyone he truly feels he could go to over his own worries—or that he's felt that way since he was a boy, if then. Still...]
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[Certainly not anymore. Not when his friends are his Pride.]
I guess I also just expressed hope that we'd be able to meet again, sometime.
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[It sounds like he means it. He does, in a way. But after he sets his chin on his folded hands, he decidedly does not mean it when he continues—offering hopeful nonsense he could never really believe, even as he puts every effort into making it sound sincere:]
There's an entire universe of possibilities out there, hm? Perhaps it's not out of the question.
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I'd like to think it isn't. I've seen a lot of weird stuff so what's one more? Especially if I get to see friends again.
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Hmm. [A hum of agreement.] What do you think you'd want to do most, if you met again?
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Well, I think I'd like to show them my hometown, and introduce them to my friends at home.
Find something we could all do together. Kinda depends on the season but something watching the fireworks at a festival, or a snowball. Something like that.
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[As for Altius, he takes a sip of his drink. Would he celebrate seeing those he's lost? He struggles to imagine it.]
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[He's quiet for a moment.]
What would you do?
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[It's how people work, after all. They cling to whatever they can get. He sets his drink down during that pause, eyes wandering to those few others about. What makes this place cling to them in particular, he wonders briefly before Tsuna's question catches his attention again. Eyebrows raised, he takes a moment to apparently ponder.]
It would depend on the person. [He has no one he truly considers a friend back home, however true or not that may be, to introduce, and the city he lives in is... fine. Even aside from all that, he's weeks away at most from his final goal, and then...
He lets out a breath, a faint furrow in his brow, as if he's puzzled by his own lack of imagination.] I suppose... I'd just want to speak with them.
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About anything in particular or...just talk?
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[In the grand scheme of things, of course, but... also because the subject would be less important. Words are less important to him than their presence, once he's gotten to know anyone worth caring about in particular. But he tries not to think very much about anyone in particular; it would just be a waste of his focus for no real benefit, much like this gathering.]
... It would be more about having the company again, I'd think.
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[He smiles.]
It's just, important. Isn't it?
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That's right.
[He sits back, eyes settling over the little tables that have been set up for the purpose of memorializing those who've escaped this awful prison.]
Well... don't let me keep you from your friends and making something of all those memories.
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[Tsuna's eyes are bright and warm as he speaks, flecks of orange behind the brown. The always open Sky.]
If anything happens, I'd like us to find each other someday to.
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... That's sweet of you to say.
[In those eyes he sees a reflection of others he knows well. The eyes of young people all fighting for and believing in the future. The eyes of those he's wanted so badly to save from the suffering and despair he discovered instead. And now he's aware of so many more, in worlds out of reach of the merciful sleep he'd thought would be all-encompassing.
There's something kind but almost mournful to his smile when he continues.]
I'd like that too, Tsunayoshi.
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[His smile is bright. He means what he says.]