[What a delicate situation he found himself in. On one hand, it would be easy to make the quips he always had, to draw the priest in a way that he knew that would keep their situation light, and thus, easy for the priest to dismiss and not dwell upon. But he would make no real, lasting progress that way. He had insinuated himself in to Chikusa Kakimoto's life, true, but how long would it be until the priest came to his senses? No, this was a cross roads, not the largest he had faced, but an important one nonetheless. If this was anyone else, Mukuro would have taken it as a cry for help, or that the priest was seeking validation. Even though Mukuro was here, he was still alone.

It was tempting, so incredibly tempting, to cross the scant distance between them and show the priest how he wasn't alone anymore. To remind him with his fingers and mouth and tongue that Mukuro was tangible, he was here, and yet- there was also an anger too, and Mukuro was sure his eye was burning red when he tipped his face up to meet the priest's gaze squarely.]

The whole point of this was so you wouldn't be alone anymore.

[He couldn't help but clench the clothes in his hands, scowl overtaking his face.]

I've put up with all the imperfections of this vessel, the disgusting bodily functions, having to be unconscious so often, being stuck in one place at one time, and I have done so for you. So try not to take my offers so lightly.