Gold wasn't certain what to expect from his son's Mirror. He assumes, rather unfairly, that most of them are cruel when the Reals are kind. Shattered reflections that no one will miss when they're gone from this world. The hat has already claimed a few victims. A few more and he can be safely over to the other side and begin preparation for the final stages of the ritual.

And now he's face to face with his son.

It's more disheartening than he expected- here is Bae, as he should have been. A man who grew up in the place he was born in. Perhaps his Mirror isn't cruel at all, but a version of Bae who grew up properly in a loving home with his father and mother and...

He eyes flick to the hand on the sword, to the expression on his face, and he straightens, frowning. "Someone, actually," he corrects, gently. "Hello, Bae."