[It catches him off his guard just as much as anything else Scien's said so far today - another little crack in the myriad of cracks that have begun to form in the support beams of his life.
Scien had said his company was enough, and that he would answer without expecting anything in return. Even now, "be careful" feels like a phrase with no strings attached. Just a simple statement with genuine intent behind it. Something about that makes his heart squeeze painfully, because if he thinks for too long and too hard, he would have to realize that he's never heard those words before. Nadia doesn't know what he does, doesn't have a reason to tell him this. Capucine... is a mess on his own.
Even the first minister, colored in such lovely shades of nostalgia in his mind, had never once told him to take care, sending him out into the night with a dagger, a parting dose of medicine, and towering expectations.
He's quiet for a few long seconds, jaw working a little as his conscious and subconscious mind war against each other. Then, he turns on his heel.]
I won't die without seeing Nadia one last time.
[So of course he'll be careful. Of course he'll take care. He'd already snuffed out a life for the sake of his little sister's health, and he can't let that life languish in vain. Taking it will always weigh on him, but... at the very least, he can still cling to that last hope. That he's finally overcome the biggest trial, and his hands won't have to be bloodied again.
With little more, he'll take his leave. (He'll be back for his fucking showers.)]
no subject
Scien had said his company was enough, and that he would answer without expecting anything in return. Even now, "be careful" feels like a phrase with no strings attached. Just a simple statement with genuine intent behind it. Something about that makes his heart squeeze painfully, because if he thinks for too long and too hard, he would have to realize that he's never heard those words before. Nadia doesn't know what he does, doesn't have a reason to tell him this. Capucine... is a mess on his own.
Even the first minister, colored in such lovely shades of nostalgia in his mind, had never once told him to take care, sending him out into the night with a dagger, a parting dose of medicine, and towering expectations.
He's quiet for a few long seconds, jaw working a little as his conscious and subconscious mind war against each other. Then, he turns on his heel.]
I won't die without seeing Nadia one last time.
[So of course he'll be careful. Of course he'll take care. He'd already snuffed out a life for the sake of his little sister's health, and he can't let that life languish in vain. Taking it will always weigh on him, but... at the very least, he can still cling to that last hope. That he's finally overcome the biggest trial, and his hands won't have to be bloodied again.
With little more, he'll take his leave. (He'll be back for his fucking showers.)]