[ ...It feels like time itself is slowing down, somehow. Her words coming from further and further away. Like he has all the time in the world to watch her expression, the care she takes with that one little word, and the confirmation that comes after it.
Lelouch starts to open his mouth; finds it dry, swallows first. Clears his throat. Finally, softly, ]
I told you about the Requiem?
[ The word I feels... wrong. Even if it was him, even if it's always been him, memories erased and reset and twisted and (stop) even if it was him... rather than some very slight string-theory variation... it doesn't feel like him. ] [ Some additional degree of separation from even the stranger (strangers) he at least remembers being. ]