"You can tell me your wish, but remember that I'm not a Holy Grail," Roman answers lightly. Although he supposes he could have made them once upon a time. "The you who sits in front of me," he adds. The present one that place who he used to be in the past. Grown into, changed. Pick your word for maturing.

He scratches the back of his head, laughing weakly. Awkward laughter helps to lighten the atmosphere. "But I was actually quoting what Marisbilly asked me, ten years ago."

He did it. He has just ripped off that band-aid. Now is time for avoidance and stuff his mouth with Emiya's cake.