[France makes a thoughtful noise, swirling the red in his glass lazily. It has a slightly sharp aroma, but there's a subtle sweetness that France finds balances this one out.]

[When he speaks, it's a little slower than his usual diction, turning over his words as he voices them.]

There's a part of me that still has a difficult time with the knowledge that there are different worlds. Perhaps even different universes all together. It's not that I don't have the concept back home, but it's a fairly recent concept and rather philosophical. One thing that's always stuck in my head about the concept, though, is all the different universes are supposed to be different, which implies there's something about them that makes them unique from all the other possibilities. This is certainly truth if we assume the number of possible worlds and universes is infinite.

[France squints and takes a sip of wine. He sets the glass on the table and picks out one of the cashews. He motions vaguely with it.]

For my world, the difference from others might be the fact I and those like me exist. For you, it might be the structure of your countries and the manner in and by which you exist.

[He pops the cashew into his mouth, turning to fully face Envy as he does to smile and shrug ruefully as he chews and swallows.]

We can't be sure, of course. I mean, I used to think me being here meant I was dead.

[Which hadn't actually been disproven in France's opinion, despite what China had told him. And there are people who have come to this world who certainly are dead in theirs, so there's that, too.]