"Yeah, well. I'm the one without a magical alibi." Seifer stood, unfolding himself from his crouch slowly. There's a stiffness to his movement, and he knows it. He's sore and slow, if anyone was going to have a chance of taking him out in a fight it would be now.

There's an expression on his face, mostly tired but there's a war of something else underneath that as well. Anger, a twinge sympathy for whoever this Sephiroth guy is, his own guilt... vague annoyance and then sharply closed off to just tired and annoyed.

"...Who's the one who wanted power, and who's the one who could get it and use it for them Squall? Pretty sure you lost braincells hanging around Zell too much if you can't figure that bit out yourself."