they miss their casino. they miss their position as manager. they miss how naturally it had come to them, with all the hard work they put in. they miss the love and respect of their guests. they miss having, even briefly, a place to belong. a place to feel wanted and needed for who they are rather than their ability.
unlike the only years of their life they remember…
shibusawa’s question catches them off-guard, and their silver eyes widen — they’re genuinely disarmed, but then their gaze drifts downwards as a heavy sorrow fills it. “ to someone, i’m sure. but i… ” their head tilts in what’s a hint of a shrug, a small, defeated smile tugging at their lips. “ i’m too tired to see anything in it. ” they hardly see the point anymore, if they just keep getting cornered and used.
Shibusawa’s gaze is elsewhere, focused inward for a moment of thought.
“I see.” It makes sense. But he’s realizing that perhaps now isn’t the time for questions of worth, or how well Sigma can interpret it.
“I don’t know if there’s any solace in me saying this, but I’ll attempt it.” He lifts a hand, slow and methodical, poised like a dancer, before pointing squarely at Sigma, sitting across from him. Not coming any closer, not crossing the invisible barrier between them, but directing the following words directly at them:
“No matter how tired you might be, simply living another day is a small triumph. Whether you know it or not.”
With that, he stands, hands falling to his sides. “Considering the current situation, I shouldn’t be making you dwell on such topics anyways.” A slight bow. “My apologies.”
He is in a position where Sigma is more or less his own guest. Shibusawa might be out of practice, but it’s generally considered rude to make someone uncomfortable, isn’t it?
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