I st1ll, uh…appreci4te it, though. Especially ’cause it’s for c00lkidd.
(Awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck.)
The n3xt time we see each other, it’ll probably be 1n less [FAVORABLE] situati0ns. Go ea5y on me, alright? Heh.
(Something doesn’t seem quite right with Elliot, but Noli figures it’s not his place to overstep or assume, lest she suddenly lash out at him. Instead, he quietly turns the idea over in his mind, becoming akin to a puzzle he’s trying to solve . . . and understand.)
—hidden as he simply turned away, unwilling to be honest. for himself, for everyone else.
yes, this facade, he'll burn with it, just like always. ]
… this is all i'll do for the likes of you.
[ 💭: this is all i can do, anyways. ]
I just w1sh he was exempt from this suff3ring. It’s n0t right.
(… Jeez, what is he doing? Commiserating with someone who slaughters his teammates?)
… Your dist4nce . . . right.
(This part of Elliot is the one he knows. But that word—“knows”—has a sense of familiarity attached, a kind he doesn’t deserve, so he figures “observed” might be better.
Despite all the bullshit Noli had caused, he still remembered that glimmer of kindness towards others.)
… it's not easy for a child like him. the spectre will keep going, hurting him again and again.
[ 💭: i can't stand it. ]
the least… i could do is keep my distance.
[ 💭: keep myself away, so he won't get hurt. ]
[ he glances away to hide that expression of worried fear. ]
(Silent for a couple passing moments, staring at Elliot. He doesn’t feel uneasiness rise at the question, so he chooses to trust his gut.)
…Yeah. I th1nk, at lea5t. It can’t…be 3asy, y’know?
(Mask reflects a confused expression on one side, but doesn’t press the matter.)
Uh…..wh4t. I mean, why?
(Suspicious, suddenly on guard, like a flip had been switched.)
It settles unpleasantly like an veil being lifted in his mind—it’s not just about the kid, is it?)
But I l3ft that beh1nd. And you—if anyone—-I thought, 1 don’t know, maybe you could see p4st it too.
(His hands instinctively come up to wrap around the other’s wrist, face twisting up. Mask flashes with hurt, moreso mental than anything physical.)
Th4t’s not…
(The repeated words die right on his tongue. Seven is right. He’s not suddenly exempt from everything he’s done;
I’m n0t—I’m not [BETTER] th4n you, I know!
(He grew up, but he never went the right way about it. It was sudden, brutal. Leaving behind traces of anger, hurt …corruption? He takes a better look at the errors spreading.