There's a queer sort of look on his face — on the snake's face, given that Gus's face is twice unreadable; perhaps it's the same expression either way: relief, mixed with guilt, mixed with that remnant disbelief.
Point one:
«Of course I've got soul. It was mine to begin with, long before I ever gave it to him — why wouldn't I just take it back, when I finally needed it again?» says the ... snake? Right into her head, too.
Point two:
"I'm dreadfully sorry, then," Gus says, sounding quite thoroughly somber about it, if maybe not quite all the way to funereal. "I mean, not that we aren't, too, but I suspect your phrasing is meant to indicate that you did not, personally, experience the Resurrection — did you? I hope you didn't try to sleep through the end of the world, either way."
(That might be a lie, if taken on its face — but then again, does he even know if he did?)
Point three:
Now that the apology part is out of the way, that featherweighted John is coming back to nag at the edges of his mind. "Of course," Augustine continues a bit more... slowly, a bit more cautiously, tasting his words as he goes (maybe checking them for poison? hard to say if he's for or against its presence, here), "I am left to wonder, a bit, how you would know you're from before something like that — along with wondering how you ended up a robot."
«If she slept for days, well... I don't know. I wouldn't make the same mistake.»
"Oh don't you start, or we'll be stuck like that for the rest of the day!" Gus snaps at his Omen(—beloved—brother—martyr), one hand coming up to — brush against his mask, at the bridge between those two glittering, mirrored lenses, where he can't pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation.
«Pleased to meet you, anyway, Anna, now that you're not freaking him out,» adds Alfred, quite cheerfully, even though he's a little disappointed that his brother has already ruined his chance to add Can you guess my name? at the end.
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Point one:
«Of course I've got soul. It was mine to begin with, long before I ever gave it to him — why wouldn't I just take it back, when I finally needed it again?» says the ... snake? Right into her head, too.
Point two:
"I'm dreadfully sorry, then," Gus says, sounding quite thoroughly somber about it, if maybe not quite all the way to funereal. "I mean, not that we aren't, too, but I suspect your phrasing is meant to indicate that you did not, personally, experience the Resurrection — did you? I hope you didn't try to sleep through the end of the world, either way."
(That might be a lie, if taken on its face — but then again, does he even know if he did?)
Point three:
Now that the apology part is out of the way, that featherweighted John is coming back to nag at the edges of his mind. "Of course," Augustine continues a bit more... slowly, a bit more cautiously, tasting his words as he goes (maybe checking them for poison? hard to say if he's for or against its presence, here), "I am left to wonder, a bit, how you would know you're from before something like that — along with wondering how you ended up a robot."
«If she slept for days, well... I don't know. I wouldn't make the same mistake.»
"Oh don't you start, or we'll be stuck like that for the rest of the day!" Gus snaps at his Omen(—beloved—brother—martyr), one hand coming up to — brush against his mask, at the bridge between those two glittering, mirrored lenses, where he can't pinch the bridge of his nose in irritation.
«Pleased to meet you, anyway, Anna, now that you're not freaking him out,» adds Alfred, quite cheerfully, even though he's a little disappointed that his brother has already ruined his chance to add Can you guess my name? at the end.