[ Squalo had, at points, but it only made him like the man more, for the most part. It wasn't healthy, probably, but he had always been that way. Punches and burns and cuts, always expressing feelings better than anything tender. ]

I guess. [ The walls are going up again. He hates how that guy ended up wrapping him around his finger -- whether intentionally or not, all while he was trying to do the same. He should have forgotten him by now, and yet here he was. ] He didn't need to be looked after, anyway.

[ Not in a way anyone but him could have, or so he thinks. ]

[ He listens to the rest, not particularly sympathizing, but noting it all the same. It's a bit ironic, that fondness they seem to share for monogamy. Assassins were selling their morals and their bodies for a living, if in a different way for the most part. It makes no sense to get caught up in something like this. ]

[ And yet. ]

[ At least she's wiser about it than Xanxus was. He had held every instance of Hell playing with Squalo's inhibitions against him. They never got the chance to sort it out before he disappeared, too, and that makes his heart ache in a whole new way. ]

[ It's fine. He'd never let himself break apart like this again. ]

I thought it was something like that. [ In regards to her confirming she was an assassin. So was he, but he dealt more with hitting hard and fast than infiltration or subterfuge; he could recognize dangerous situations quickly but he didn't always read people like an open book, as she seemed to be able to. ] We gotta hold onto some reservations, no?

[ That was one of the few ways to stay human. ]