"Your... tuning?" Federico echoes, brow furrowing slightly. "I suppose..."
He's uncertain. He still does not fully understand the mechanics of tuning, nor does he pretend to. The Law dictates his empathy link; it is not something he controls, only something he obeys. The fact that the link even functions in this place, so far from The Law, is already a miracle in its own right. But he does recall Sunday mentioning tuning before—trying it, even. It had only made their resonances worse. Robin’s frequency is close to Sunday’s, yet… not. The similarities are enough to be disorienting.
She speaks of songs, and something in his stance eases. "Yes. He recently acquired instruments and played at the 'Dance Party' that was held. He is very skilled." There is a flicker of something in his voice—acknowledgment, perhaps even quiet admiration. "He promised me a song." A pause. "This would not be the place for it, of course."
Her emotions churn, thickening the air between them, but he does not address it. This is normal. New arrivals are often confused. If she has questions, she will ask.
And then—she does. Whilst not so subtly drawing a firearm. Federico blinks, unperturbed but mildly puzzled. Was something wrong?
"Correction," he states matter-of-factly. "I do not know you well. It is Sunday who knows you. He speaks of you with fondness and care." A beat passes. "How you are free now." He notes the shift in her posture, the simmering aggression laced within her tone. This is... unexpected. But he continues, unfazed.
"As I have stated before, Signora, he has called me his friend. I strive to do that title justice." A measured pause. "I also bear his will, should anything happen to him."
That is... an uncomfortable truth. Saying it aloud feels heavy, wrong. But it is what Sunday asked of him. He'd entrusted it to him by name. A high honor amongst executors, one he carries with great care.
It's too bad his cold disposition doesn't show any of that.
"As an Executor, I am bound to fulfill that will should the worst come to pass." A statement, plain and simple. No apparent emotion. No hesitation. Just duty.
He will strive to make sure that does not happen, however. Stares nervously at Sunday mirror thread...
no subject
He's uncertain. He still does not fully understand the mechanics of tuning, nor does he pretend to. The Law dictates his empathy link; it is not something he controls, only something he obeys. The fact that the link even functions in this place, so far from The Law, is already a miracle in its own right. But he does recall Sunday mentioning tuning before—trying it, even. It had only made their resonances worse. Robin’s frequency is close to Sunday’s, yet… not. The similarities are enough to be disorienting.
She speaks of songs, and something in his stance eases. "Yes. He recently acquired instruments and played at the 'Dance Party' that was held. He is very skilled." There is a flicker of something in his voice—acknowledgment, perhaps even quiet admiration. "He promised me a song." A pause. "This would not be the place for it, of course."
Her emotions churn, thickening the air between them, but he does not address it. This is normal. New arrivals are often confused. If she has questions, she will ask.
And then—she does. Whilst not so subtly drawing a firearm. Federico blinks, unperturbed but mildly puzzled. Was something wrong?
"Correction," he states matter-of-factly. "I do not know you well. It is Sunday who knows you. He speaks of you with fondness and care." A beat passes. "How you are free now." He notes the shift in her posture, the simmering aggression laced within her tone. This is... unexpected. But he continues, unfazed.
"As I have stated before, Signora, he has called me his friend. I strive to do that title justice." A measured pause. "I also bear his will, should anything happen to him."
That is... an uncomfortable truth. Saying it aloud feels heavy, wrong. But it is what Sunday asked of him. He'd entrusted it to him by name. A high honor amongst executors, one he carries with great care.
It's too bad his cold disposition doesn't show any of that.
"As an Executor, I am bound to fulfill that will should the worst come to pass." A statement, plain and simple. No apparent emotion. No hesitation. Just duty.
He will strive to make sure that does not happen, however.
Stares nervously at Sunday mirror thread...