And here's Kefka some time later, sprawled out in a guest bedroom.

He took the hand back to Lancer's time and buried it. Then he came back, got some tea, poured sugar into it until he could taste it, and marched to bed. And now.

He's just. Tired. No, he's angry, roiling. No, there's nothing there but the shell of his body. Ugh. He is so ready to sleep, but his eyes won't close yet.

Stupid temple. Stupid Issei. Stupid Lancer. Stupid existance.