Lancer || Cu Chulainn

So are we just not gonna talk about how the apparent end of the world got called off at the last minute?

[Beat.]

No? No. Okay, whatever.

[Shrugging his shoulders, Lancer dismissed the thought and moved on to the next subject.]

Y'know, yesterday marked two years I've been here? And it's not really something I ever gave much thought to, but...hell, two years is a long time when you're not constantly fighting. I'm still not sure how you humans deal with a life this boring, but I guess it ain't all that bad. That's two years I shouldn't even have been alive for, so complaining would be pretty stupid even for me.

[He laughed, a rough but not unfriendly sound that sounded almost like barking.]

I guess what I'm kinda drivin' at here is...I've seen a lot of people come and go--people I gave a damn about, and I'd be a liar if I said I don't miss the hell out of them. But I'm pretty grateful I got the chance t' meet anyone here in the first place.

[As if he'd just realized the sentimental nonsense he was saying, Lancer paused somewhat awkwardly.]

...Hell, I must sound like I've finally lost it. Maybe I have. Doesn't matter, I guess. Listen, I ain't really sure where I'll be around the 13th, but if anybody wants to meet me for a drink around then or anytime, really let me know.

[It seemed he wasn't going to elaborate on why the 13th specifically; even if he was, it was right about then a Houndoom came poking her nose in his face demanding attention. Scratching her lightly behind the ears, Lancer stopped the video without another word.]

[For those that knew him both in Johto and in Fuyuki, it was likely obvious that Lancer was not the type to get genuinely angry. And for good reason. With his summoning as Lancer he lost the ability to snap into a warp spasm that would kill hundreds, but the former Servant still made sure to keep his anger in check at all times. He would get annoyed or irritated, but in or out of combat he was a laid-back individual who was nearly impossible to push far enough to send over the edge.]

Who the hell is responsible for this?!

[So when the video broadcast showed the calm and amiable Hound of Ulster snarling like he was ready to kill the next person he saw, it should have been painfully obvious that something was fundamentally wrong. Lancer never snapped that badly, because he knew damn well what kind of stupid things he could do when angry with or without a ríastrad.]

[At this point, however? Controlling his emotions was a distant thought so far in the back of Lancer's mind he'd need a map and binoculars to find it. His expression was the enraged look of a literal one-man army, crimson eyes burning and sharply focused.]

I want answers. Now. [And as he continued in a tone that suggested any answer he heard had damn well better be the right one, the reason for his uncharacteristic anger was made clear:]

What happened to Connla and who do I have to kill to fix it?!

[Gods help anyone that crosses him, because papa wolfhound is pissed.]