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[It's instinct that has her initially wanting to protest, but practicality rises a moment later. She doesn't know what she might learn from reviewing that tape, but that's just the point: she doesn't know. Perhaps she can learn more about what that darkness through repeated observation, perhaps not, but for him to just tell her that she won't keep the recording--

On the other hand, she's not an idiot. There's a sharpness in his gaze that frightens her, and she won't be so stupid as to insist when god only knows what he might do to her. They're alone on this station, and while she has her own gifts, she doesn't precisely want to put them to the test like that.]

At least we know what your gift does.

[Best to avoid the subject for now.]

Who did you see?

[He's still folding all that anger up. One second at a time, it's draining away, like scalding water pooling back in his chest.]

I suppose we do. A straightforward enough process, if mildly... unpleasant.

[She doesn't argue with him regarding the recording, which makes it a hundred times easier for tension to roll off of him. Ardyn suddenly feels as if a part of himself has been opened up, raw and visceral, which is not quite what he had expected; he replays it in his mind, going over just what he had spoken. Not much, nothing too revealing, though he knows Rosalind will make her own conclusions about what just happened regardless.

He shifts his weight to the other foot, which is a good sign. Better than him being eerily still, stubbornly unmoving.]

A god of my world. He possesses a less than amiable personality, you see.

[Or. OR. Ardyn is just very biased.]

[Her mind is already skipping ahead. Does it only make you hallucinate your enemies, then, or does it depend on the situation? They'd been talking about a tense topic, and he'd hallucinated something from his past. What would happen if he'd been overjoyed? Full of grief? Neither of those seem like emotions that come easily to him, though. There's baser ones, but she's not about to suggest that to him.]

To say the least.

[She exhales slowly, some of the tension draining out of her as he keeps calming down.]

Were the things he said to you provocations, or things he'd said to you before?

[He scoffs.]

Oh, they were very provoking.

[He has no doubt she didn't neglect to notice what he had planned to use as a counter -- that darkness that even the god of war himself couldn't dispel.]

But it was not a memory, if that is your meaning. He referenced the Storm. He spoke to me as if Eos was gone.

[He's turning away to go pick up his box of terrible, terrible cookies.]

Something my own mind conjured up, then. I should thank you for snapping me out of it, but the state of my cheek says otherwise.

[A sting that's already fading, so it's obvious he's just trying to twist the conversation around.]

[Oh, buddy, they're not done with this conversation. Rosalind doesn't follow just yet, but she turns, watching his back.]

You'll be all right.

[It might be carelessly said, but she's not quite able to pull off a blithe tone.]

A-- Mr. Izunia. What was that you conjured? That darkness?

[Sure they are! Just look at how he turns to view her with his usual lopsided smile, only slightly stained, and makes to move as if he wishes to exit this room. But, oh, Rosalind is a bit in the way, and she's asking him more questions now.]

Just another little something I can do.

[Is that helpful? Probably not.]

Another gift granted to me, alongside my immortality. That you stood in it was very reckless of you, I hope you realize.

I'll keep that in mind the next time you hallucinate, shall I?

[He's gonna either have to teleport or physically move her aside, because she's not moving.]

Is it a manifestation of that disease? Or something else?

[She's stubborn, isn't she? Ardyn clearly only wants to talk about this so much, because while he is calmer now, he does have to allow his brain to reboot a little after having met with a god that he hasn't spoken with in millennia. A vision that dug up far too much than he's ever willing to consider, except only on his darkest of days.

Misguided and lost, monstrous thing that you've become. Even as Eos is swept away by the storm, still you cling to notions of hate and sorrow.]

Yes.

[To which part? Well, the former, but guess what, he's not going to clarify right now.]

Would you be so kind as to move?

[She doesn't for a long moment, standing there as her mind flickers through the pros and cons. It would be nice to get answers now, and god only knows she's good at demanding them, but Ardyn is stubborn in the most infuriating of ways. Likely he won't answer just because she'd asked-- and besides, he's just seen something that had to have shaken him (even if he looks nothing but good-humored and patronizing right now). Perhaps striking while he's emotionally vulnerable is wisest, but . . .

No, she ultimately decides, and takes a step back, allowing him to pass. No, she doesn't want to ruin this relationship, and she'll have a better chance of getting answers if she plays the long-con game. But she's still got that camera, and boy, she's gonna go over that footage a hundred times.]

[It's a wise decision, because he would hate to have to force her to get out of his way.]

Most appreciated.

[-he says with a lilt as he edges past, that lingering feeling of something pressurized and dark still hovering ever so faintly around his person.

And so it appears like he's about to leave, until he suddenly whirls on his heel to face her again.]

Oh, and by the way, the camera. [AS IF HE'LL FORGET ABOUT THAT LITTLE DETAIL, fight him for it.] May I see it?

[Ah, and perhaps she's not so unaffected as all that, because she jumps as he turns so suddenly. It's a minor thing, but it's a tell, and she hates that it happened.

She kind of hates that he remembered about the camera, too, but perhaps it had been foolish to hope to keep it. Still, she tries to think of a way to keep it before concluding she's neither the resources nor the skill to pull off some elaborate trick.]

The whole point of this venture was to study those things. I can hardly do that if you're intent on taking my observations away.

[At least he’s kind enough to not remark on the slight startle. (No, he feels self-satisfied instead.)]

You have your memory, don’t you? Rely upon that.

[He steps closer again.]

Or, perhaps, you’d like to find someone else to study instead. After all, experimentation does thrive upon trial and error. [He lifts the box of cookies gently with one hand, as if to accentuate them.]

The camera, in exchange for two of these. To do with them as you like.

[She still wants her camera, but this is the best deal she's going to get and she knows it. Rosalind nods and holds out her hand, palm up.]

And shall I inform you of my results?

Of course. I would be glad to hear of them.

[That leaves two for him, and two and a half for her. The remnants of the first cookie still exists in this room, discarded for now. He hasn't forgotten about it, but he doesn't care enough for it either.

And so, he opens up the box and hands her two. At least he can take pleasure in knowing that they'll be put to good, and hopefully amusing, use.]

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