We have little memory of who we were and what we were capable of. I strongly suspect they expect us to be...not as controlled as we would have been with our memories.

[Diluc says as he studies the hinge and then the pin. He turns it in his fingers and then sets it down under the hinge.]

Let's go talk to them. [He starts down the hall and pauses, to wait for her. He's in denim and a fringe shirt. He isn't a fan of both, but he wears them well.]