Outside, the storm continues on, oblivious to their conversation, but with the Warrior here, Kuja finds his mood suffering. He would like to enjoy the moment a little longer, just between him and mother nature beyond, but suddenly, he would rather be elsewhere, avoiding the scuffle the two of them may end up in, if out of nothing more than pure habit. Such a waste of an otherwise soothing evening.

"Where I ended up was through no direction of my own. How tragic that I should seek so determinedly to master my own fate when in the end, I have so little control over it at all, no matter what I do." He turns his gaze back on the agent of Materia, or whatever deity the Warrior of Light plays slave to now. Time to deflect. "What about you? Are you pulling your own strings here, or has some new or old god of unknown origin given you your orders?"