[Even used to it, the lack of warmth from Diluc right now doesn’t bother Kazuha. Everyone had their own burdens, and he does not fault Diluc for being shaped in certain ways from his past. The samurai is a bit wrapped up in his own turmoil, the stress a heavy lump in his chest that seems to make breaths just a bit harder. It was nothing like those nights right after he stole the Vision, the pain of his charred hand a shadow to the pain in his heart.

He keeps his eyes focused on the calming sight of nature out the window for a few more moments, letting himself reflect and gather his thoughts before he turns his eyes back to Diluc’s.]

I prefer when people speak frankly to me, Diluc. Even if I don’t take your advice, your words are never wasted on me.

[He looks down at the Vision again. His right hand knows the shape of it; if he opens his hand enough, it almost fits perfectly into his palm like it’s become a part of him.]

I’m speaking with you because I find your advice valuable.