[ There's a familiarity in it. It's folded into the space where he expects to be reprimanded and rebuffed, an expectation that almost brings him some misaligned comfort until it doesn't actually come. The pieces are there, but they don't fit. Kizuna is being a little unfair in the undertow of these emotions, paw in paw. His expression flashes momentarily; he can't argue that point. Instead, he takes a moment to try and break the surface before he suffocates, finding the familiar dog-shaped form against the light. ]

What's worse, do you suppose? Looking for something you can't find, or finding it in the wrong circumstances?

[ They're not idle questions, empathy pressing up from the beneath he pressure of a fellow black suit. That much he's aware of, even if the animosity is unmoored and difficult to pin down. It's not as though the emotions aren't his, but — the suits are funny things, wringing them like iron.

Regardless, it seems as though he's being at least a little rhetorical too. He hefts his paw gently, up and down. ]

Thank you for coming to get me.