[He thinks of Judgement's puppet. That Abdul had looked real, to be sure, but while he had sounded real, he hadn't spoken half so well. He'd been a shadow of Abdul. There had been none of the subtleties there, the little nuances that the Abdul here and now is showing. This Abdul-- his Abdul-- looks in shock; he keeps glancing up at him and back down to his hands, reeling. He's trying to understand how he isn't dead, and yet the first thing he'd done is ask after Polnareff. Judgement's puppet had never been so real.
This has to be real. This is real. This is really real, and it doesn't matter how or why, because it's enough that it is. There's a grin on his face, he realizes, wide and enthusiastic, and with a laugh he rushes forward, yanking Abdul into a hug.]
Yeah it's fine! God, come here-- yeah it's fine, god, Abdul-- let's figure out where the fuck we are.
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This has to be real. This is real. This is really real, and it doesn't matter how or why, because it's enough that it is. There's a grin on his face, he realizes, wide and enthusiastic, and with a laugh he rushes forward, yanking Abdul into a hug.]
Yeah it's fine! God, come here-- yeah it's fine, god, Abdul-- let's figure out where the fuck we are.