[Trust Mitsunari to have the broadest possible definition of pity and one that ignores all positive connotations the word might have.

Motochika rubs at his arm now that Mitsunari has finally released it from his death grip and frowns. If they ended up married, he must have gotten Mitsunari to agree to it somehow. He wishes he could remember how, because now it seems like they're back to the same impasse they'd reached back when the little metal birds had appeared.]

You say that as if it's a failing on my part. I wish better for you than what you allow yourself and I want to provide it for you if I can. Damned if I know why I keep trying when you obviously want nothing of the sort.