For some reason, what Inigo says causes Roland to slow in his organizing bottles and fragrances. He takes his time to speak. Catches Tidus's eye but doesn't really look like he's asking for answers. He's just thinking for the most part.
"Well...Yes. You're not wrong about that." The machines bit, and how they've grown complacent with the advancement of technology. But he wants to paint them a more complete picture of the future, and it's a pressing enough feeling that he continues on, the clinking of glass against glass accompanying his reply.
"But let me tell you something," He suddenly takes the blanket in his hands and unfolds it just once, so it can drape longer against the crook of his elbow. Roland shows it to them in his earnest explanation.
"Beautiful craftsmanship like this? A machine could never replicate what real, honest labor can do. This can only be done by human hands who put their all into making it. No convenience a machine can provide will ever replace the value of someone actually working to make something."
He folds it up again and sets it down on the table. "In fact, back home, things made by machines costs so much less than something made by artisans. Those are more precious." He smiles, really coming from somewhere here. He doesn't want them to feel like the future is a place where hardworking folk had no dignity. He doesn't know what else compels him to pitch such a thing out of nowhere, but it's done now and he's got his conviction about him nevertheless.
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"Well...Yes. You're not wrong about that." The machines bit, and how they've grown complacent with the advancement of technology. But he wants to paint them a more complete picture of the future, and it's a pressing enough feeling that he continues on, the clinking of glass against glass accompanying his reply.
"But let me tell you something," He suddenly takes the blanket in his hands and unfolds it just once, so it can drape longer against the crook of his elbow. Roland shows it to them in his earnest explanation.
"Beautiful craftsmanship like this? A machine could never replicate what real, honest labor can do. This can only be done by human hands who put their all into making it. No convenience a machine can provide will ever replace the value of someone actually working to make something."
He folds it up again and sets it down on the table. "In fact, back home, things made by machines costs so much less than something made by artisans. Those are more precious." He smiles, really coming from somewhere here. He doesn't want them to feel like the future is a place where hardworking folk had no dignity. He doesn't know what else compels him to pitch such a thing out of nowhere, but it's done now and he's got his conviction about him nevertheless.