-Gracia is walking out to the Cloud statue, with a frilly pillow under her arm-
-She spots Berserker, cocking her head-
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?... Please get off that statue. You will break it.
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?No problem. Got, like, six more at home.
(Can't help but gawk a bit at it, starting to feel kind of ashamed for forcing her into such a tiny garment.)
...But, uh... Yeah. Think I could frick him up like that.
...He'll live. He likes it...
<You're... khehehehehhh... beyond help, probably...>
make it through this year if it kills you yet | 2001-2019No. No he doesn't.
-She walks closer, staring at him with uncharacteristic intensity-
Get off him, or I'll make you.
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?-She grits her teeth, cheeks burning a little in a mixture of anger and embarrassed astonishment at this asshole-
-After giving him a good glare, she went back to Cloud's side, trying to see if she can find the broken fragments and push them back together-
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?-Assuming the fragments all fuse back on much like before, she takes a moment to look at her pillow-
-Then takes out the pocket knife she keeps in her jacket to slice her stitching-
-Taking out the final little piece she struck off with her hammer-
... He told me to hide this. So I did. I was going to keep it hidden until he came back. But he didn't come back. Because he's here.
...
Why did he lie?
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?... Shut up. He's smarter than you. Than both of us.
...
He wanted to stay like this. And he knew if he lied to me I'd be too stupid to fix it. Just like he wants.
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?...No. He is miserable.
(Every ounce of sadistic joy instantly leaves his voice, the gnashing vacuum of a monotone remaining.)
My mental contact with him is the only connection he has with the outside world. He has gotten himself into something he cannot reverse and now he is going mad. This is the fullest sort of despair, the self-inflicted hell...
(There's... a little emotional inflection on the last bit, he quavers a little, and takes a heavy puff from the cigarette.)
…
(Takes it, gently.)
...Thanks, Miyu.
make it through this year if it kills you yet | 2001-2019... Fix him. Fix him right now.
Fix him, fix him, fix him!
-Snarling-
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?

(16! It stays firm, prolly stretches out a bit.)
...Frick, sorry, didn't mean to pounce... Does that help?
(Just sits on his chest, grinning and letting him do his thing.)
make it through this year if it kills you yet | 2001-2019