He stands up, draws himself to his full height and faces the other man. He's still braced for an attack, no matter what the other him says, and while he's not trying to be hostile, his stance is still ready for a fight.

Did he really ever look that young? He can't imagine it now. Maybe it's there in the fractured remains of some of his memories, but he's never felt the need to look there, to try to reconstruct them. It's not him anymore.

"But?"