[ Kizuna has to breathe a noise that sounds a little like a chuckle, a winded thing with barely a pulse. Her heartbeat feels loud in his ears, a dual-toned sound with a timbre, a beat. That image splashes over his mind's eye too — just as a camera's flash splashes its light over the thing it intends to capture. Intrusive in its immortality. Beloved for the sentimentality. But nothing is so loud as standing in the splendor of the moment itself. ]

Halovian? Is that the reason for your plumage? It's striking. [ Finally, he moves, shuffled forward on his knees to go to the limousine's door. ] I'm not hiding anything. It seems like I can't, with you...

[ The idea meanders in his mouth, slow to take to a new path. He's used to hiding everything from everyone. He's full of stolen things, things that don't belong to him. Everything he knows had to be taken from others and imprinted on his heart, like how to play the piano, or how to love. Exiting the vehicle, Kizuna rounds to its driver's side door and gives a sing-song little tap on its window with his knuckles. His voice continues to sound from outside, low and conversational in its defeat. ]

My empathy isn't anything so spectacular. There's no pushing or pulling on my part. If you think of it as a tide...

[ Something you don't know is dangerous until it's upon you. Or as deep until you're too far under. A force only controlled by the moon and its gravity, a thing incapable of its own light, instead borrowing it from bigger, brighter entities — ]

...that'd probably be more accurate.

[ Softly, he hooks his fingers beneath the door handle and clicks it open. A smile flicks the corners of his mouth as he stands aside. ]

Care to join me out here?