Sometimes, very few times at that, Demyx would let on that he was understanding something. That question had come from there, a shimmer of intelligence he wasn't willing to let through otherwise.

He shouldn't have asked the question, he didn't know what to make of the answer. Without his memories to guide him, just what could he become?

More importantly, Demyx would cling to whatever it was.

He responded, not with words, but by getting to his feet, clinging to his sitar.

"I'm going to catch a nap." He didn't offer a smile. It also wasn't true, he needed to think. He opened up a portal and fled.