Gil stares for a good, long time at his identical face on the page. Even though he's used to seeing himself from different times and universes...seeing a photo of such an intimate situation that he wasn't a part of makes his heart ache a little. Oz still looks like Oz, Vincent is still the same as ever. This photo could have been taken at home, with a few changes to the clothes and sepiatone rather than color, but...
He raises a hand to cover his mouth, shoulders slumping forward just a bit.
"Somewhere...it could have been like this."
No Chains, no Contract killing his master from the inside. No guns. No violence. A carefree life - the exact thing that his master has always wished for.
But a sharp pain erupts inside of the corner of his temple, reminding him of his duty, his promise, his 'absolute'. Longing and regret...there was no time for any of that, even here. He winces and brings the hand up to rub at the side of his head, eyes still focused on the photo.
no subject
He raises a hand to cover his mouth, shoulders slumping forward just a bit.
"Somewhere...it could have been like this."
No Chains, no Contract killing his master from the inside. No guns. No violence. A carefree life - the exact thing that his master has always wished for.
But a sharp pain erupts inside of the corner of his temple, reminding him of his duty, his promise, his 'absolute'. Longing and regret...there was no time for any of that, even here. He winces and brings the hand up to rub at the side of his head, eyes still focused on the photo.