[ He answers so assuredly, as if he knows what the puppet would want, as if he can see into the void that he masquerades as a heart, as if expressions are all one needs to see into the window of one's soul.
He can't find it in himself to refute the architect. There is something compelling about his words, the idealism dripping from every vowel, and concern from every consonant. Like Kaveh wants to rip open his chest to see if he can't make sense of what lies within, and form it into a real heart. Like he sees something where nothing exists.
He doesn't respond—he can't, not to those earnest words. He opts to walk past the architect, and out of the room. Then he turns back to Kaveh, eyes unhidden by his hat now. ]
no subject
He can't find it in himself to refute the architect. There is something compelling about his words, the idealism dripping from every vowel, and concern from every consonant. Like Kaveh wants to rip open his chest to see if he can't make sense of what lies within, and form it into a real heart. Like he sees something where nothing exists.
He doesn't respond—he can't, not to those earnest words. He opts to walk past the architect, and out of the room. Then he turns back to Kaveh, eyes unhidden by his hat now. ]
Well?