[Studying her for a long few moments, he looks between her and Masquerain, before settling his gaze elsewhere. Didn't she just open up to him about her situation? Is it fair for him to keep this shit from her? It's not, and he knows it, yet it's like a vice has tightened around his chest as thinks over what she said.

The red to her cheeks is a weird comfort, making him feel less vulnerable in this situation when she's looking embarrassed herself. Maybe that's what eases him a bit, allowing him to puff out a sigh.]

My situation ain't as grim as yours, that's for sure. But that don't make it less shitty.

[How to explain this without giving too many details, hmm...]

Where I come from, we got these traditions...

[His eyes wander from her and Masquerain to Golisopod and Pinsir. The former has since made himself comfortable on the floor and has dozed off. Pinsir is resting his back against the larger bug's side, arms crossed over his front as he stares at Lucina and Guzma still. Utterly unblinking.

Guzma doesn't seem bothered by his staring, clearly used to it. His face scrunches and he shrugs.]

Tch! Whatever, it don't matter. [HUFF] I don't do nothin' for no reason. Even if it makes me bad, even if it's seen as cruel by ignorant punks, it ain't for nothing.