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"Hey. Can we talk?"

This was, he was aware, not the greatest start for any conversation, and having already expressed the headache he had regarding the new Puppy and his tendency to gnaw on anything at floor level (including cat toys and shoes.) So he was fairly quick to add, (as he carefully encouraged said puppy to look for something to eat elsewhere with the gnawed toe of his sneaker.

"It's not about the demon hound." He promised. "I just wanted to pick your brain."

Which was more or less true. The idea had hit him when, between the cats and the dog, he'd wound up rescuing the shredded racing leathers he had rescued from Falco Marks apartment and boxed up for... reasons he wasn't even entirely clear on.

He knew they had significance, but the significance largely belonged to someone he didn't really know, but who she had.

Lately it seemed like everyone wanted to talk to partsof him that didn't exist any more.

"Yeah. Great." He sighed, dismissing the defense of the small, daggere mouthed ball of adorrible fluff with a vague gesture.

The leathers in his hand were probably familiar, and that familiarity might well bring it's own discomfort. They were the leathers he'd once worn on the track, right up until the last day he'd ridden for her father. The multiple reinforced layers of protection actively torn apart from the crash, where they hadn't been sliced open entirely by paramedics.

"It's not about the dog. I promise." He reassured her again, draping the leathers on the back of a chair and looking uncomfortable. Awkward even.

"I was wondering if you would tell me about F..." he stopped. Corrected himself. Falco Marks, like Xanthus, was part of him. Not a stranger. Xanthus may have lingered in the ruins of Kairatos, but there were also some parts of Falco left clinging to these small ruins under his hand.

"...I was wondering if you'd tell me what you remember about who I was before. If that's ok."

He still had scars in the mirror from that forgotten part of him, but it was like trying to put together a puzzle when you had five pieces out of eight hundred.

Thoughtfully, and quietly, he drummed his fingers on the ruined leathers, creating a soft patter sound faintly like rain, but a little sharper. That and his distant expression of consideration didn't make it particularly easy to read what was going through his head.

"Hm." he added at last, then shrugged. "It's... not a big deal I mean. I'm just curious. I know it kinda hit you hard."

Maybe he hadn't understood the situation as well as he thought, if she had only known him in passing. He had been under the impression that he had been changed from the ground up, becoming Xanthus. He'd lost so much... -anger- having forgotten why he had been angry in the first place.
"...I think..." He said slowly. "I'm pretty sure I didn't get back on the track after that. I don't remember the details, just... being really ******** pissed at the world."

And wanting to hurt people. Or to be hurt. He remembered that, one was concious, one he'd realized slowly only upon retrospective, but she didn't know that and he didn't mean to tell her.

"If it had been at you I think I'd have made sure you knew it." He did add, hastily. she'd possibly blame herself, like she did over the whole issue of memory loss to begin with.

"Like i said, no big. I was just wondering if I'd really changed that much."

The tapping stopped, and he folded his arms carefully, leaning on the back of the chair with a slightly wilted, wistful smile that was much dimmer than usual.

"I don't have to remember everything to tell you Falco didn't stay happy and carefree. Chaos didn't make me angry it..." he pursed his lips fiercely, trying to find the words.

"...It just... gave me a reason to do something with it. It was like someone reaching in to your head and turning off the parts of you that say 'no, walking up and punching that guy in the face for cutting in line is actually a stupid mean b*****d idea and you shouldn't do it.'..."

He glanced at the table, still not sure how he felt about the cooling bed of coals that had fueled him for... he didn't want to think how long it had been his driving force. Longer than he'd been Realgar anyway.

"Fair doesn't really have a lot to do with it. You only had what you remember to go on, and I only have...what pieces I remember. In so far as having been Realgar was concerned, I came into the world angry and ready to take it out on anyone. There were nights I'd drag in bruised up and down and I was still angry and I still wanted to fight because I couldn't get over being that angry and nothing was scratching the itch. I thought ranking up would help, I figured maybe that would make people respect me I guess. Acknowledge my efforts, or at least be goddamn scared of me, but that didn't help either, and just... one day it clicked that things weren't bothering me that... maybe kind should have been bothering me, even though like... every other goddamng around pretty much bothered the s**t out of me to the point I was probably ready to pick a fight with a brick wall just to prove I could beat it to gravel to prove God Knows what point. It's..."

He was rambling. He was so rambling and it was stupid but there were all these things banging around in his head and he wanted to explain.

"I'm not going back to them, I'm not getting sucked into that bullshit again."

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by the hug, but it did honestly take him aback for a moment. Zia was a creature of great intensity, or maybe that was a symptom of everything she'd been through.

"Zee, hon..." He floundered for a second, trying to decide if it was appropriate to hug her back, then did anyway, without the issue resolved. "You're not a crappy friend and you haven't been a crappy friend for a minute."

"Zee, I don't blame you. Seriously. You had no idea we were the same person, I mean... based on your description on how I used to be and How I remember being... I'm not sure I would have recognized me."

He reached over to fluff at her hair, knowing it would infuriate her, but it seemed justified since she had taken the occasional night to take liberties with his grown out hair.


"We've all got things we regret, but we can't undo them. We're going to be ok. We've got each other, right? Family."

He may not have been related to her by blood, but he wasn't too sure that mattered much.