[For a moment, time stops. His face freezes, caught in a taut smile that shrinks once time resumes. Swallowing, he finds his throat thick, his fingers already curling into the fabric above his stomach. With a start, he shakes his grip free, laughing nervously.]

Really? Of all the stories, you'd—It's really nothing!—it—it was foolish—[He breathes out a laugh, enthusiasm draining from his tone.]—it's... [A hand smooths over his hair as a sigh escapes, utterly defeated.] Oh, fuck it.

[He says it sourly, joy drained from his eyes as he turns back.] I was a sacrifice. [There's a why, a how, an explanation of mechanics, but he says none of it. Saying something would only acknowledge it as true.] Stabbed. Twice. Here. [He moves his fingers over his stomach, wetting his lips as he shrugs.] It—it was odd. I knew I was dying but I couldn't feel any of the pain.

[Ducking his head, he rubs the back of his neck.] Anyway, the wound was meant to compel Nocta from me. And... it did. [Chuckling:] That nearly killed me a second time but... somehow I managed. I rejoined with her. Made a pact. She healed me. Like a... [he gestures over the wounds] ... stopper for the wounds. It only lasts as long as she's with me.

[He doesn't tell him about the rest. The abduction, the torture, the hopelessness, the knowledge that the line between demon and god was near invisible. It's all better off kept far away. ]

When I came here—when they took her from me—I should have died upon arrival. [Offering a docile grin, he shrugs.] They saved me.