“Ah.” Kaworu turns, his eyes searching for the source of the sudden greeting—a small boy, someone he vaguely remembers meeting, though the details are vague like a hardly recalled dream. Something about an exotic dancer and a corpse of himself, but that can’t hardly be true, right?
“Hola, Conan.”
“¿Hay algún problema?”
Yeah bye.
“I’m.. sorry, Kaworu-oniisan, I cannot… understand what you are saying.”
This 6-year-old knew a lot of dumb, random trivia, but not enough to know how to speak this foreign language. There was… something strangely sexy about Kaworu speaking this language though.
