'my father talked about you. or i guess, who you used to be.' paxton's voice is casual as he runs a hand through his absol's fur, smiling as it preens at the attention. 'i think he'd be happy to know you're alive, even like this.' the even if you don't remember goes unsaid, as his gaze shifts from his pokemon to the man in question.
L casts a glance down in Paxton’s direction. There is something so familiar about the boy, something that makes his heart twinge at the thought of. Perhaps it is the father he speaks of that affects him this way — a moment of thought, and yes, the way his chest feels heavy with guilt means that’s likely the correct assumption.
Add another to the list of people he needs to apologize to.
There is something that takes shape in the back of his mind as he wonders just how he may have known the both of them; the comforting rumble of his gyarados hums playfully in some foggy memory, and for a moment he's standing alongside someone in warm summer weather.
Without thinking, he touches Tarasque’s pokéball in the depths of his coat pocket, the nicks and scratches in the otherwise smooth material helping to settle his thoughts.
“How did your father know me?” He asks, even if he’s unsure if he’s ready for the answer — or how it will affect him. After a moment of pause, he adds, “... And did you know me?”
