If Sora knew how the soldier took that, he'd definitely point out that his level of simplicity makes it hard for him to understand why a weapon can't be a person, and why being a weapon excludes someone from the joys of liking themselves. A conversation for another day. (If he knew about him, he'd definitely like hearing about Steve sooner rather than later, though. Friends are good.)

Sora's stacking ingredients plain, too distracted to think about toasting the bread or even adding a sauce to bind everything together. After all, those are questions he's thought about for years, and he's still not sure if he has concrete answers for them, if only because he's not sure if thinking about it would fix anything, or salvage anything worth saving. Advanced sandwich construction is beyond him right now.

"I - he." He shakes his head. "Sorry. When I try to find, like, one thing in the past that could have started this, it's harder for me to remember which one I am. There isn't enough of me - Sora - back there. I'm just... him. I don't know what's true and what's just him being scared. I don't have perspective."

He pauses again, trying to pick through his train of thought. "I... know that he thinks he's broken. I like to be more optimistic! He hates that." He laughs, the sound a little helpless and jangly. "And that's about as far as we got before he had to go to sleep. Everything after that is me guessing, and, um... I have, you know, guesses, but they're kind of. Like. Stupid."