This man kept saying things to denote a long-time friendship between himself and the original Al-Cid. He hated preexisting relationships. These were the sorts of people who leveled him with looks of mingling disappointment and hurt whenever he got names or minor details wrong. Seriously, what was it with humans and their reliance on titles? What did it matter in the end?
"It's okay." He glossed completely over those couple of sentences that would have otherwise spawned an entire evening's worth of conversation. Friendly questions like, how were things with Xerc and his father? Alright? What did he mean by, had I known then what I know now? It was practically begging for Al-Cid's attention and care!
But, that was just it. This Al-Cid didn't care. Instead he was thinking: maybe he'd used this face long enough. People were beginning to suspect him, and didn't Xerxes have quite a nice face? His leave of absence was, in fact, very fortuitous. Cloning him meant getting away with even more misdeeds undetected ...
He blurted, "About that supply closet!" Long legs carried him after Xerxes' retreating back, and warm fingers curled around his wrist. He put on the smile that most humans found irresistible. "How about it? I would like to welcome you home in the best way I know how."