[He can't quite prevent his own shadow from giving a jolt at those last words, cutting a little too close for comfort. But even if there's a question on his lips, he bites it back.

This isn't story time. This is about emotions.

His eyes flicker up to the tree instead, and his shadow begins to stretch across the ground, as though cast by a low sun. Reaching closer to Ouma, though not yet lifting from the ground.]

Do you hate them for failin' in a way that forced you to take that role? Or do you just hate yourself for stoopin' so low?

[They're getting close...]