Ignatius's gaze turns to settle on each of the people speaking in turn, lingering on Shima for the longest. He wobbles down to the ground, sitting on his butt instead of crouching on his knees - his tail flops uselessly, without the muscle definition or strength to do anything else.

Nothing they say will change how doomed he already is, but maybe he at least understands what they are intending - even if he can confidently say it isn't any mercy. After the things he's been experiencing, he's not sure what mercy really is anymore.

"I don't know how you'll do that," he says. "It's not really... about you. Only what you represent."

He sounds hopeless, but at least he's responding to them directly this time.