...You don't have to feel sorry for me. I don't need anyone's pity. [ it's angry, a little guttural — something you'd expect from a canine. ] I make my own decisions, and I live my own life.

[ his fingers curl into his palms, and he gets up abruptly, not really caring about the fact that he's exposed — he reaches for his towel, fastening it around his waist again, but his movements are the slightest bit forceful. ]

You're a kind person. But I'm not. There's nothing for me back home. My purpose has already been fulfilled. I have a new one now, and it's to protect all of you.

[ he brings a hand to his face. it hovers over his eyes, as though he doesn't want to quite look at her. ]

I'm sorry for making you sad. You don't deserve to be. You're going to live, and keep making new friends and grow and one day you'll have a family of your own. That's the life you deserve, and that's the difference between us.

I'm already dead. I don't have a future, but you do. There's nothing wrong with that.

That's just the truth of this reality.