Zoisite taps his finger against his forearm, but he remains thoughtfully quiet as the princess becomes thoughtfully wordy. He doesn't interrupt, not because he dares not, but because he doesn't want to; what she's speaking is not only relevant, but insightful, whether she realises it herself or not, and for a girl so often sheltered by flippant joy and wilful whimsy, he supposes that has to mean something.
In the old kingdom, he recalls, if Princess Serenity was ever known for any trait in particular, it was kindness that stuck out. At times thoughtless, but kind, and, in this instance, a thoughtless sort of kind that has his eyes downcast in a matter of seconds. She's delved into the subject of their pasts, and he draws into himself. The way she says it, it sounds like he's reluctant to help; he supposes he is, but largely because he suspects he's already forfeited any right he has to, and quitting is easier than being dismissed. He reminds himself that she has no way of knowing this, though, because he hadn't thought to say, because he wouldn't think to say. It's a reprieve she's trying to offer, whether he can accept it or not.
"Weren't you the one saying only a few moments ago that he has a lot on his mind? I hardly think me showing up is going to make his life any less complicated." He scoffs, and it diminishes into a frown. Thin eyebrows furrow together, eyes narrow. He laughs. "Although, who knows? Maybe if I follow your advice, history will repeat itself again. Three times has got to be a record-breaker in the field of causing more harm than good to the person you're supposedly born to protect."
It's a hypocrisy he's fully aware of, that he flaunts the fact of Serenity never being much of a princess when she's still more a princess than he's ever been a guardian. He's aware of his duties, yet he never fails to find reasons to ignore them: first simple immaturity, then spite, then concious immaturity, brought about for by his own accord in the hopes that, perhaps, things could be as misguided but straightforward as they were in the midst of childishness. The last of these has been doomed to fail him from the start. He knows too well now, knows the consequences and the realities; however he tries to ignore them and focus on his own selfish goals, the fact will remain that he no longer has any to distract himself with.
He hadn't intended to showcase this inner turmoil, not to anyone and certainly not to Usagi, but maybe it's only fair for how sincerely she's spilling her own thoughts.
"It still amazes me," He sneers, willing himself not to become too engaged in the topic. "But somehow you've managed so far, haven't you? If it's any consolation for earlier, you are being stupid now."
His gaze drops to the ground, half searching for what hers has found such a distraction in, half perfectly aware that there's nothing there and seeking any kind of aversion possible.
"Princess, Usagi, whatever you'd like me to call you. You're still the same brat." Not a single sentence would feel complete without a slight insult attached, lest he start to sound too sincere and adult, too sympathetic. "But for a brat, I suppose you're strong."
And he supposes he doesn't mean only in the sense of fighting, but he'll leave it up to her to pick up on that. He'd never spell out something so blatantly complementary.
"You'll manage because it's what you do. I thought you would have figured that out by now." He shrugs, then grins, a bit self-deprecatingly. "Even when you're on the wrong side, there's no rest, so of course you, of all people, can't get any either. You're the princess, the leader, the sovereign... But, dare I say something so cliché, you're not alone."
He's a bit concerned this is starting to sound like a pep talk, but there may be no avoiding it.
"Or have you forgotten about the senshi that have been fighting at your side for years now? And they're only the allies who are willing to put up with you unquestioningly, for whatever reason." He tucks a strand of fair hair behind his ear, tries to make his glare a little less, well, glaring. "While we're at it, you're absolutely right. I never did approve of you-- but you're not quite as foolish as you used to be, and I think I can manage at least not disapproving of you if you'd stop whining about problems you know you can deal with."
He arches an eyebrow, and allows himself to joke a bit. "Unless you want me to do your job for you. I mean, I'm sure I could do it at least as well."
