[ It's a fairly bland comment, compared to the rest of their conversation -- a petulant thing to say, for petulance's sake. On Gildor, he can smell the wines he's imbued himself with, the sand heavy in the creases of his robes, the smoke of the fires as it wafted up and over the beach. Sand gives way to solid ground, and Bakugo rotates them in a slow circle -- keeping an eye on their surroundings, maneuvering them to avoid prying or wandering eyes. ]

I have a mom and a dad.

[ Though he snarls the words -- an overflowing of defiance in the face of the concept that a symbiotic relationship could be forged in place of the relationship he has with his parents -- his voice is hoarse. It cracks in places it shouldn't. On the first 'm' in 'mom'. The 'a' before 'dad'. A subtle quiver in his throat. ]

I won't let some weird brainbug replace them. It can suck it up and deal with that, we're already doing enough, having it live inside of us!

[ But, for someone who has been given a family, through the connection... it must be a wonder, to feel that comfort. He tries not to consider it, he's never been very good at empathizing with anyone else. ( It's why he failed his licensing, in the end, because opening his heart to someone in a vulnerable position was practically begging to be fucked over. All he had to do was WIN, WIN, WIN. A nonstop missile, a powerful emblem for an era that he had-- he'd just-- damn it. ) ]

-- sorry. About Shinji. I guess if I lost my mom or dad, I'd feel the same way.