[ He repeats those words quietly, following them with a breathy exhale -- something that sounds a bit like a droll, disbelieving laugh. But Gen offers no further explanation at first, opting to instead finish the first half of the sandwich. It doesn't take him that many more bites anyway, because even exhausted and teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown, he's still a teenage boy; half a sandwich is barely more than a snack.
(A snack that does a great deal to soothe his frazzled nerves, but a snack nonetheless.)
It's only after he's finished that sandwich half and idly brushed the crumbs from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand (bad manners) that Gen looks to Ciel once more. ]
You're out there dragging in prisoners so god-knows-what can be done to them, and you wanna waste your spare time and energy indulging someone who doesn't even like you? Thinks you're annoying? [ Gen's never been subtle about his distaste for her, but he's never been this matter-of-fact about it, either. But here and now, he speaks without much filter, too weary to maintain his usual habit of picking out only the most deliberately obnoxious things to say. ] You know how messed up that sounds? Get a fucking life for yourself.
[ He reaches forward to fetch the remaining half-sandwich, but doesn't bite into it just yet. Instead stares at its cross-section; he'd never thought he'd miss anything of his hometown, but right now, he'd give almost anything to be back in that familiar shitty family restaurant, just eating a too-late meal on a weekday night. The thought merits another moment of silence before he adds at a quiet deadpan, ]
... did you want to take them in as prisoners, too?
no subject
[ He repeats those words quietly, following them with a breathy exhale -- something that sounds a bit like a droll, disbelieving laugh. But Gen offers no further explanation at first, opting to instead finish the first half of the sandwich. It doesn't take him that many more bites anyway, because even exhausted and teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown, he's still a teenage boy; half a sandwich is barely more than a snack.
(A snack that does a great deal to soothe his frazzled nerves, but a snack nonetheless.)
It's only after he's finished that sandwich half and idly brushed the crumbs from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand (bad manners) that Gen looks to Ciel once more. ]
You're out there dragging in prisoners so god-knows-what can be done to them, and you wanna waste your spare time and energy indulging someone who doesn't even like you? Thinks you're annoying? [ Gen's never been subtle about his distaste for her, but he's never been this matter-of-fact about it, either. But here and now, he speaks without much filter, too weary to maintain his usual habit of picking out only the most deliberately obnoxious things to say. ] You know how messed up that sounds? Get a fucking life for yourself.
[ He reaches forward to fetch the remaining half-sandwich, but doesn't bite into it just yet. Instead stares at its cross-section; he'd never thought he'd miss anything of his hometown, but right now, he'd give almost anything to be back in that familiar shitty family restaurant, just eating a too-late meal on a weekday night. The thought merits another moment of silence before he adds at a quiet deadpan, ]
... did you want to take them in as prisoners, too?