That makes two of us. I'm worried she's wearing a target, now, one I can't pick up and put on myself. If she didn't feel like it was us against everyone it'd be different, but... I cain't shake the feelin' she's decided we shouldn't bother with alliances.

[He grimaces at the sheer Southernness of his own voice - this time, it definitely wasn't intentional - and while Hiyori (probably) can't see it, he can definitely hear the frustrated little noise Jonathan makes with the face.]

Just wish you two could get along. You're right, by the way. I do worry because I don't understand what's been done to you.

[Admitting it feels like burying himself in a grave he just happened upon; the choppy stiff rhythm of his speech, trying to resist the tempo set by this world, sounds like dirt hitting a coffin-lid heard from the inside.]

So, ah. Yeah, if you're sure you're okay with it. I'd like to call.

[Link is blandly placid in a way he didn't seem to be when they last met. Hiyori is very like himself, still, even when pronouns keep slipping into plural and he calls people by their full names no matter what. To people who hadn't met them, maybe the former would seem easier to handle than the latter, but for Jonathan the choice is clear. He'd rather think it's possible to maintain some kind of self, in case the worst happens, and talking to Link makes him start to doubt that. Hiyori seems far less... diluted by combination, in comparison.]