exist;
It makes no difference, whether she is there or not. He does not care.
A drop of water in the ocean, a pebble crumbling into dust… All pertain to insignificance.
Finishing his reports. Compiling research outlines and objectives, paying minimal interest in his squad's training but extremely attentive towards mechanical and chemical modifications in the underground laboratories, exchanging insults with Zaraki… endlessly occupied.
Yet there is nobody suitable who can soothe the hell butterflies.
And why does the entire afternoon seem as if there is pain in a nerveless limb --replaced by unfeeling technology-- that was lost long ago?