[ There's a pang of Amos-doesn't-know-what when Dextera jerks away from him. It's not hurt, or surprise, or anything like that. There's nothing that could resemble distress or betrayal. Dextera owes him nothing. Not his time, not a response to the truth he's imparted on him; nothing. But still, Amos can't help the sense that he just fucked up, even though he has no idea how or why — because it's still an inextricable truth that he's right.

It's with a confusion, mostly directed at himself, that he watches Dextera's followthrough. On some level, he recognizes that Dextera is making sure he doesn't lash out. And it probably is a smart decision on his part, for as much as Amos didn't come to Godsblood to start shit, well... if he was just defending himself and managed to return to Achamoth with a Pleroma shard in hand, who could blame him.

It's for the best that things don't progress, much as a part of Amos wishes the opportunity would present itself. But as Dextera takes a step backwards, it's clear. It's not going to happen.

Amos finds his shoulders slumping; he sighs before he looks back up at Dextera. ]

You know there's nothing you can do if that's the case, right. Won't make a difference who you try to warn. You'd have better luck fighting the ocean. If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen.

[ He'll let him walk away, but he'll supply him some friendly advice, too. Genuinely friendly, genuinely kind, with all that nihilism can afford to offer. If the Regent wants Godsblood back, then it doesn't matter what the Pleroma do — that, Amos believes wholeheartedly.

He doesn't expect them to necessarily take things lying down, but... can't say they weren't warned of the inevitable outcome. ]