Following sedately, strangely quiet and complacent for all his earlier violence, Mantis was silent for some time after her question. At last, however, he made a curious noise, rubbing fingers together and feeling blood flake off with a residual sort of satisfaction. "No," he said at last, remembering that he'd been asked something. "Nothing that I.. remember." He couldn't even remember his own name, much less something he might have once liked to eat.
What had his name been? It had never really bothered him before this---he'd been Psycho Mantis for so long that it hardly mattered, honestly.
And why was this.. girl being so kind to him, anyway? Didn't she know that he was a killer? He'd joined FOXHOUND only to have the chance to kill as many people as possible. He'd made it his personal mission to send humanity into oblivion. Only in ceasing to exist could there ever truly be peace.
Above all else, Mantis wanted silence. An end to all the selfishness, the self-absorption, the hate, the pettiness, the ignorance. He got so sick of having it all pushed into his head, day in and day out.
.. And yet, and yet-- there was this glorious, young girl who.. worried about him.