[There's perhaps a little flicker of something grateful that he's leaving the first part as-is, knowing it would upset him. And then something satisfied, albeit in a biting, sharp way, to have his anger accepted.]
...Alright. It isn't any of my business, regardless.
[He just fusses and worries, even if there's really no point in fussing or worrying because the people involved are - or will be - fine enough sooner or later.
The rest, though... It's a little hard for him to grasp the notion of a finite Scien Brofiise, when he'd been in the same position for decades, longer than anyone else. The idea of it sits strangely with him, not exactly anxious but not thrilled, either, even if there's a part of him that almost wants to be.
I will find you, again and again, he says, deigning to part with some of his limited time for his sake. Until you decide you are ready to be without me, he says.
There's a fleeting thought toward the Lucas in some other version of his home, where Nadia's health had been restored painstakingly and without further bloodshed. Did that distant him decide he was ready to be without Scien? Rather, did he want Scien to stay with him in the first place? He looks from their hands to Scien's face, making eye contact even though the most obvious signs of a Reliver still rile that reflexive, deeply ingrained sense of disgust in him. The emotions under that are still complex. Still hurt, still angry, still just a little lost, but more because he doesn't know where he himself stands, here. Further down, there is the thinnest thread of something like longing.]
...If you'll only have a finite amount of time, there's no need to spend it looking for me. [A beat; he moves to slip his hand away.] But I've already said that I don't discard those I come to know. I may be a beast, but even I'm capable of that much.
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...Alright. It isn't any of my business, regardless.
[He just fusses and worries, even if there's really no point in fussing or worrying because the people involved are - or will be - fine enough sooner or later.
The rest, though... It's a little hard for him to grasp the notion of a finite Scien Brofiise, when he'd been in the same position for decades, longer than anyone else. The idea of it sits strangely with him, not exactly anxious but not thrilled, either, even if there's a part of him that almost wants to be.
I will find you, again and again, he says, deigning to part with some of his limited time for his sake. Until you decide you are ready to be without me, he says.
There's a fleeting thought toward the Lucas in some other version of his home, where Nadia's health had been restored painstakingly and without further bloodshed. Did that distant him decide he was ready to be without Scien? Rather, did he want Scien to stay with him in the first place? He looks from their hands to Scien's face, making eye contact even though the most obvious signs of a Reliver still rile that reflexive, deeply ingrained sense of disgust in him. The emotions under that are still complex. Still hurt, still angry, still just a little lost, but more because he doesn't know where he himself stands, here. Further down, there is the thinnest thread of something like longing.]
...If you'll only have a finite amount of time, there's no need to spend it looking for me. [A beat; he moves to slip his hand away.] But I've already said that I don't discard those I come to know. I may be a beast, but even I'm capable of that much.