[If it was startling to see a copy of the young man's visage suddenly sprout up behind him, then seeing a perfect facsimile of his own self was even worse. Dito jerks his hand away from his doppelganger's face as if he'd been physically burned, his eyes widening in surprise. It was almost as if he were gazing at a living reflection. His rounded, golden eyes. His youthful face. His wild untamed hair that Five had always rhapsodized was as soft and as irresistibly touchable as lamb's wool.

Everything, even the boyish contralto of his voice, was perfectly replicated. Everything about himself that he absolutely despised.

Dito feels his face twist in a sneer of disgust and fights to suppress it; fights to mold it into a less revealing expression of disdain or even annoyance. No sense in letting this demon know he'd just caught him off guard, right? He barks out a laugh, sharp in the deafening silence.]

Hah! Fat chance of anyone ever calling up that mug. I don't have any loved ones.

[There's absolutely no ruefulness in that statement. Dito forces himself to look at his twin for a few seconds more before turning on his heel and stalking off in the direction of the lamp post and home.]

C'mon. We're wasting time and it's colder'n an ice serpent's snatch out here.