It might well be as if Sephiroth were wearing his soul as an outer layer of clothing, so visible was the tension which had started in his fists and was gradually spreading up his arms, across shoulders and quickly taking hold of every fiber of ever muscle of his being as he stood there and listened to Hojo -no, not real Hojo; this apparition of Hojo- reveal one of the darker thoughts he sometimes had but buried as far into the back of his head as it could go.

Genesis had been the first to illustrate such a connection, but that was before Sephiroth had known what he did now. Too often, perhaps, he'd told himself it was a pointless coincidence; something not worth pondering over. It certainly wouldn't help him to keep a clear head.

"Typical." There was a telltale grit in his tone, where Sephiroth's tone had tightened significantly. Yet he still fought hard to keep his cool under an anger which was still smoldering just underneath his skin."Why don't...you tell us something that's not as obvious as mud?"

"Such as why you feel it's so necessary to rip these facts out of my future and wave them in my face."