[ As Lucy is contemplating, Gilgamesh experiences a flicker of... something. It is not that he is able to read or deduce her exact thoughts; no, whatever else he may be, titles vast and glorious, he is not a mind reader. Not presently. But they have engaged in Synthesis together more than once, so perhaps that has created a connection of some sort, in that he feels unusually attuned to her mood, enough to sense that something is amiss, and he can even intuit a general idea of what the issue at hand is.

He glances downward and away. There is not much of a reply Gilgamesh can offer at such a moment, because even if it's a touch jaded, Lucy's assessment is not wrong. Nobility is Gilgamesh's by right of birth and role. But of course, there is another side to all this. His very uniqueness does mean that he is an absolutely individual existence, alone in all space and time. That is to say, absolute loneliness.

But this, too, is not something Gilgamesh allows himself to accept any sort of sympathy or comfort over. He is as he is. It is only that every coin has two sides, and there is also a price to the sort of Absoluteness which Gilgamesh so casually projects. ]

Of course, in my kingdom, there was no such thing as an extraneous individual. All lives contribute to the glory of the kingdom and the King.

[ Gilgamesh casts a glance around, though he looks almost disinterested in the surroundings. Really, he's contemplative, as ever. ]

So it seems in Magisteria, also.

[ And with that, he rises, locating a towel and wrapping it about his lower half as he strides away from this particular scene. There are no further words or any hint of any external reaction beyond that. ]