"Enough," Bakura repeated the single word as if it were a slur. "For what, precisely, is this state good enough for? Whatever amount, you can thank your satep-et for it. He's the one who did this."

The ire, even mild as it was, still didn't persist. Raine wasn't at fault, and Bakura knew that. The thief pressed fingers to his temple, wincing. His temper was too short, because trying to focus on anything for more than a few minutes sent his head pounding. It was ironic, that the voices in his head had kept him sane, rather than being a sign of the opposite.