Kuja sneers. "I had been thinking that, as well. Rather telling in that the damned thing has my voice, as well." He points at one of an elderly man in black armor in a cape. "There, at least, I can empathize. That is-" he can't bring himself to say the word 'father', nearly gags on it. Even sire gives entirely too much credit. "Maker is as good a word as any. If the point was to have dolls of new arrivals, you'd be here, but if it were people we knew then surely I wouldn't have one, unless someone I know is here as well..." What in the hells is this about, exactly?