"Most people just call me Murphy." He says, despite himself reaching out to grab Xehanort and pull him behind cover with him as something larger comes rumbling by. That can be for someone else. Let the heroes have that.

With his back to a wall he concentrates.

"I think how we acted here reflects the type of person we are. So even if it fucked with your memories it got you right. To hell with whatever life you lived." Murphy's not an idealist by a reach. But he is practical. He won't deny that now they have this whole fucked up unreal history in their heads.

"I've learned in the apocalypse to appreciate any good few days you can manage. And those were an awesome few days weren't they?" He elbows him, getting his sword ready now that the thing has went off to find someone with more bravado to fight. "I had a daughter. Her name was Lucy. I've been a father... just I didn't get as much time with her as I would have liked."