And this guy was still going on about pie? But the mention of Alphonse somewhat had him paying attention. He was a kind person too and maybe, since Maes knew Alphonse quite well, he wasn't bad after-all. He still kept his hostility, though his grip on his knife wasn't as tight.
"You can't be serious?!" However, he didn't know exactly what he was asking about. Twelve did feel bad about Maes' daughter not being around though, yet in a way it might have been better that way, as long as there wasn't some sort of trouble or as long as she wasn't actually alone. He didn't understand the concept of family well, but it must be close to what he felt whenever he'd be tucked into bed rambling about his day to Nine and being able to get a rare laugh out of him, or whenever he'd get sick and be taken care of even if he didn't like it... or so he thought. He missed it. All he'd been doing in this place was cause minor troubles and play around as if he were in one of those strange game shows he'd seen on TV.
He wasn't exactly sure about the whole alchemist thing, but even if it wasn't possible in his world, the mention of equivalent exchange made sense. Even in science it sometimes worked the same way depending on how advanced it was. He remembered Alphonse mentioning Ed as well. Twelve remembered wanting to see those golden eyes in person and wanted to see what his color would be. But here he was, ignoring curiosity and acting like a cat that had just had its tail stepped on.
How could Maes still be so pleasant and collected like this? It didn't make sense. He was actually now just staring at the ground at some ants that were moving along with whatever crumb of food they've found. He stayed quiet and his eyes widened hearing that last statement. The knife fell to the ground.
Twelve laughed a little, still not in the best mental state, but a better one somewhat. "You don't know what I've done though..." he spoke between his faint and pathetic laughter. Truth be told, Twelve hadn't actually done much as he felt he'd done when it came to casualties. Sure he made bombs and planted them, but nobody ever died in the explosions and it was purposely calculated that way so nobody would get hurt, not stupid luck like the police thought. The only blood he had on his hands were of those involved with experimenting on him and all the other children, but even that was somewhat a blur as he was only about nine or ten years old at the time of escaping with Nine. There was an occasional few people that tried to hunt them down, but it was either his death or theirs. But now he wasn't sure if he had innocent people's blood on his hands as well as Nine's due to the bad timing of coming to this place. He tried to stop it from happening, he really did.
Twelve stopped laughing and thought about a 'break'. He didn't know why but he started to cry, but silently as just tears fell. Although Sphinx wanted to attract attention to themselves with the explosions to make the world aware of what the government had done to children like himself and Nine, he'd never thought about a break being given in a way that didn't mean someone having to die.
A good heart? Is that why he'd been warned to not get too soft? He thought it meant in a literal sense, to lose his strength or his health; to ruin his concentration, not actually personality wise. Touji wasn't a real person though. Was it only 'Touji' that was good? Twelve was just a human weapon after-all.
He finally looked back up, no longer crying, but his face was still stained, "Twelve... my real name is Twelve." Or at least the only name he knew when he wasn't pretending to be someone else, when he wasn't being a liar. He became a little nervous again as if telling his name was a bigger crime than making anything explode. "I'm sorry... am I still welcomed?"