[ It's too obvious that Rezo is deliberately attempting to be considerate of his grandson's feelings. The image-conscious part of Zel wants to abort this conversation. He rubs the back of his neck, an unconscious nervous habit. ]

I've found the time to practice, in-between... everything.

[ Adventuring, training.

Looking for a cure because he's too stubborn to accept that there isn't one. No need to say it aloud and strain the mood, is there?

Zel folds his arms. He is not going to be awkward about this, damn it. ]

Can't play in front of Lina or the others without getting bombarded with "requests". Demands, more like...

[ Zel returns to his too-cool-for-this persona. It's a comforting skin to wear: a defense against the vulnerability of sharing aspects of his life with Rezo and candidly having affection for his friends.

It's a weak smokescreen, but if all of their conversations were as raw as earlier, it'd be too much to bear.

The guilt that comes from a sense of grudging responsibility -- dogged thing that is! --nags at him. There is much yet to do, it says. He's probably well enough to accomplish something of use beyond insignificant chatter and playing music.

He still can't bring himself to say, "well, anyway," and change the subject.

It's a plain fact that without rest of body and mind, you break down. His chimera body is no exception. It's proved as much. And Rezo's still overworked.

So, then... it's fine. If it's selfish, it's selfish. He's not a knight in shining armor. He's only doing his best. ]

They're a lively bunch. But, you know that already.

[ Chaotic, annoying, a pain in the ass... and he wouldn't have it any other way. ]