Boss, [Stocke amends, finally. The word feels strange in his mouth.]

[He ducks out from under the loop of that bag, setting it balanced on the brick wall, and slides off himself. Lands light on the ground - not so light as when he was a shade, but that's no surprise, is it? - and reaches up to transfer the bag back to his shoulder more safely.]

Hm? [He looks over his shoulder, then turns to face Greed again. His back settles against the wall, and that mannerism is very Stocke, as if in contrast to so much else being just a little wrong.]

[You'd think it would have been one of Stocke's enemies. It's not like he's got a dearth of them. But:] Dante.

[A short pause, and then he adds,] In his defense, it wasn't entirely of his own volition. [Or - no. Stocke tilts his head to the side slightly, as if considering. That's not quite right, is it? Dante was plenty willing.] ...at the least, being human's changed him far more than it has me.

[Or so he says. Nothing to prove Stocke isn't lying about not having changed that much. Maybe he doesn't even intend to - he just doesn't feel a large difference.]

[But he doesn't deny at least some change.]