But— [he responds so quickly, voice almost overlapping Rindo's, like he's trying to continue his sentence—] it's like...
[...]
We can't exactly complain. [Said not in a scolding way; he glances over and lifts an eyebrow, wry, uncertain, plenty willing to talk loftily about gods and responsibility but still tentative about the little suggestion that maybe he gets it too.]
no subject
[...]
We can't exactly complain. [Said not in a scolding way; he glances over and lifts an eyebrow, wry, uncertain, plenty willing to talk loftily about gods and responsibility but still tentative about the little suggestion that maybe he gets it too.]