Time and time again, he's been bested by your antics. Why can't you see the way he does, listen to him the way they do. You see things much different from him, too different from him. He can't help but feel bitter. You could very well be an equal if only you could take his hand and join his cause. But, you refuse, you're too stubborn, hellbent on your own views of justice. N couldn't help but admire you. Going against the strength of Team Plasma all on your lonesome, besting them one after the next. Even if your goals clash, there's some form of understanding between the two of you. A group of Team Plasma grunts had finally manage to catch you off guard--a stroke of luck on their part. The two grunts forcing you into a kneeling position infront of his throne. There's no malice in his gaze, but curiosity--infatuation.