Nothing? That probably did make the most sense, but at the same time, it wasn't exactly very helpful. It didn't reveal anything, leaving no progress and a dead end. The other part, though, about Ange, still bothered him. 'Knew?' Past or present probably made no difference, but either way, he couldn't quite see it fitting into the line of events. When exactly had this occurred? ... He knew the events of that timeline, of that world where he'd been swept away, confined to whatever truth that was held in the catbox that would never be opened, and if there was room at all, he just couldn't see it. It... just didn't make sense.
For now, he ignored that, and focused his attention elsewhere. "...How well did you know her, exactly?" It was starting to feel a little more like an interrogation than a conversation, but what he was supposed to do? There were too many gaps that needed to be filled, and to be honest, he was genuinely curious where this was all going. ... Pulling up threads, seeing where they led. It could be frustrating, but it also wasn't a bad process.
"Albedo," he repeated slowly. " 'Whitening?' ... Weird name." Not that he had any room to talk, but it was in different way from his own. Still, it felt strange not to offer his own name in return, even if they had supposedly met before. "I'm Battler," he greeted, but there, he frowned. What he was supposed to say now? 'Nice to meet you?' 'Let's get along?' ... Neither seemed quite appropriate. He ended up shrugging, compensating for where words should have been but none were to be found.
Something in that last bit made him a little wary, though he couldn't quite identify what. Maybe it was the implication there, that something was definitely going on here, but didn't he already know that? Then again, there was a bit of a difference between suspecting and affirming. And there was something frustrating about laying out his hand when he didn't actually have one to begin with. But at least this time, maybe he could actually process things rationally, instead of whatever had come over him the previous night.
".... Nothing at all, to be honest," he admittedly a little warily. "The person I was with said something about a deathtrap masquerading as a hospital, but because of ... certain circumstances, I couldn't really ask much about it." ... He certainly had no intention of admitting he'd totally lost it, at least.
no subject
For now, he ignored that, and focused his attention elsewhere. "...How well did you know her, exactly?" It was starting to feel a little more like an interrogation than a conversation, but what he was supposed to do? There were too many gaps that needed to be filled, and to be honest, he was genuinely curious where this was all going. ... Pulling up threads, seeing where they led. It could be frustrating, but it also wasn't a bad process.
"Albedo," he repeated slowly. " 'Whitening?' ... Weird name." Not that he had any room to talk, but it was in different way from his own. Still, it felt strange not to offer his own name in return, even if they had supposedly met before. "I'm Battler," he greeted, but there, he frowned. What he was supposed to say now? 'Nice to meet you?' 'Let's get along?' ... Neither seemed quite appropriate. He ended up shrugging, compensating for where words should have been but none were to be found.
Something in that last bit made him a little wary, though he couldn't quite identify what. Maybe it was the implication there, that something was definitely going on here, but didn't he already know that? Then again, there was a bit of a difference between suspecting and affirming. And there was something frustrating about laying out his hand when he didn't actually have one to begin with. But at least this time, maybe he could actually process things rationally, instead of whatever had come over him the previous night.
".... Nothing at all, to be honest," he admittedly a little warily. "The person I was with said something about a deathtrap masquerading as a hospital, but because of ... certain circumstances, I couldn't really ask much about it." ... He certainly had no intention of admitting he'd totally lost it, at least.