[Gilgamesh just sighs indulgently in Diarmuid's grip. This has become almost habit now, and he really shouldn't keep coming back to it all the time, but there's an addictive quality to this man's presence he can't resist. Boundless understanding and kindness of spirit that few others show him here.
In the end, he's every bit a child as that tiny Lancer-in-training. He only wears an older face and plays at older wisdom. In the end, he only ever wants to be called King. It's reflected in thoughts that are gently chiding instead of sharply rebuking.
Of course you're glad. And of course I'm right.
We're Servants, and I'm King above you all, so that's just how it is.
There's nothing wrong with living on your own terms.
Don't wish for me. Wish upon your own star. I told you that already.
I won't be happy until then.
I swear I won't smile at all.
His hands shifts up, into Diarmuid's hair, and the eyes that open to look at him are encouraging and exhausted all at once.
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In the end, he's every bit a child as that tiny Lancer-in-training. He only wears an older face and plays at older wisdom. In the end, he only ever wants to be called King. It's reflected in thoughts that are gently chiding instead of sharply rebuking.
Of course you're glad. And of course I'm right.
We're Servants, and I'm King above you all, so that's just how it is.
There's nothing wrong with living on your own terms.
Don't wish for me. Wish upon your own star. I told you that already.
I won't be happy until then.
I swear I won't smile at all.
His hands shifts up, into Diarmuid's hair, and the eyes that open to look at him are encouraging and exhausted all at once.
If you're tired, then that's fine.
Just rest for a while on me. Until then...
It's okay to smile for yourself, Diarmuid.]