[It's all still hazy in his mind - like trying to peer through a dense fog, he can make out the shapes of memories in his mind, ones formed in this era, with this Tokiomi who now stands before him. He recalls praising this man, loving this man in a manner that he had only considered appropriate for Enkidu, his friend, his equal. All at once he wants to run Tokiomi through for daring to intrude on the place reserved for only the dearest, the most precious, but a heaviness in his stomach stays his hand.

Somehow, he's sorry. Somehow, he regrets leaving too soon. Somehow, he knows he considered this Tokiomi is as strong and brave and worthy a man as Enkidu, and the thought of losing one such as him is a frightening prospect.

Gilgamesh doesn't understand it entirely, not yet, and so he can only mask his confused rage with annoyance and his offense with haughtiness.]

So you heed my teachings and treat me as your dog all the same - I must know, mongrel, what forced your hand?