[As much as he appreciates the immediate correction to avoid derogatory terminology, Carlisle can hardly let it show in his expression, his brow knitting tightly as Qubit rubs his eyes. The bags beneath them are packed for an extended trip, and he cannot help but wonder if the destination would be the maze. Having talked Qubit out of going back there before, it's an ever-present worry on his mind that the man will meander into its walls again, never to return.
Or maybe he will return, like Genji, uncertain if he's the same person he was before. Carlisle isn't sure which is worse.]
Luck favors the prepared, Mister Qubit. Sit, please.
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Or maybe he will return, like Genji, uncertain if he's the same person he was before. Carlisle isn't sure which is worse.]
Luck favors the prepared, Mister Qubit. Sit, please.