[ Angeal's own heart aches with the familiar words brought back to him. Not thrown in his face, not quite, but without the lightness of a game as they have been addressed to him before. His own reaction is conditioned, a breath out and lowering of his eyebrows... and not being goaded, because he knows, they both know, that he will never let loose against Sephiroth.

Instead, a corner of his mouth twitches up. ]

I don't think promising you I'll do better will help?

[ His expression softens. ]

And I am sorry that I fucked up like I did. [ Oh, more than anything he can even begin expressing. ] But those are just words. You deserve better.

[ It is as simple as that. In the end, until his deeds match the words, Sephiroth is right. He might as well keep his flowery promises to himself. ]