[Clarence watches Mitsuhide, his nose crinkling. He doesn't like this, waking up and not knowing how long he's been asleep. It feels like stepping into a movie theater part way through with everyone else laughing at the jokes he didn't hear.

(He imagines that it feels like that, anyway. He only has Philip's memories to go off of, and the longer the two of them remain separated, the more vague those memories become.)]

Funny. I don't remember giving you permission to enter my home. You know, I--

[The smell hits him again, a wave of disgust blinding his senses. He grips his nose tighter.]

Holy helll! At first I was a little jealous you weren't alive, but now I'm seriously starting to reconsider.